


Effervescent

by SCS12



Series: The Baseball Bat Battalion [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCS12/pseuds/SCS12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First, he is preternatural. Second, he's an overworked doctoral candidate whose mother is dead and father is police commissioner. Third, he was rudely attacked by a vampire, breaking all standards of etiquette. Where to go from there? From bad to worse apparently, because Stiles accidentally kills the vampire - and then the appalling Agent Derek Hale (loud, messy, gorgeous, and werewolf) is sent by the FBI to investigate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soulless AU by Gail Carriger. Requires zero knowledge of the book (and may be better without such knowledge).

Stiles Stilinski was not enjoying his evening. Undergraduate parties were never more than a passing amusement for graduate students at best, watching younger students make fools of themselves upon finding access to alcohol and freedom for what seemed like the first time in their young lives. At worst, he would run into a student from one of his classes while they were falling over drunk. Stiles tended to have more of the latter experiences, although that may have been because Erica insisted on dragging him to parties she knew his students attended. He had retreated to an upstairs bedroom hoping for a moment of quiet (really, a place to hide until Erica left with someone, therefore ensuring him free passage to leave himself), pausing at the door to listen for the tell-tale signs of a hook up happening inside. When he was sure the room was empty he went in, only to happen upon an unexpected vampire.

He glared at the vampire.

For his part, the vampire seemed to feel that their encounter had improved his party experience immeasurably. For there Stiles sat, alone, in a deep v-neck t-shirt that Stiles had told Erica clung a little too tightly.

In this particular case, what the vampire did not know _could_ hurt him. For Stiles Stilinksi had been born with too much life, which, as any decent vampire knew, made him a person to avoid.

Yet the vampire moved toward Stiles, gliding out of the shadows with fangs ready. However, the moment he touched Stiles, the vampire was suddenly no longer gliding. He was simply standing as the bass from speakers below thumped in the background. The vampire’s tongue licked around his mouth, searching for fangs that no longer existed.

Stiles was not in the least bit surprised; a touch from an effervescent neutralized supernatural abilities instantaneously. He glared. While most non-supes wouldn’t peg him as anything other than another overworked, underpaid PhD candidate, a vampire should have known of Stiles’s existence in the city.

The vampire recovered quickly and reared back away from Stiles. The fangs reappeared when contact was broken, but then the vampire immediately made to strike again.

“Excuse you,” Stiles exclaimed. “Can’t even introduce yourself first?”

Stiles had never actually had a vampire try to bite him before. He knew one or two from his studies and was friends with Laura Hale, Socialite Queen of New York City (who wasn’t, really?), but was used to the supernatural being far more wary of him. Stiles, who was generally useless in a fight, consisting almost entirely of bony angles and caffeine, kneed him in the groin and shoved him away. While the vampire would not be in pain long after ceasing contact with Stiles, Stiles was at least confidant that he would be surprised by the fierce shock caused by the knee to a delicate area, particularly when one was a vampire and unused to pain.

As the vampire stumbled back, Stiles grabbed a baseball bat, conveniently leaning against a wall, ready to swing. When the vampire made to move again, Stiles swung at his head, a loud crack causing the vampire to crumple. Stiles pulled pencil out of a pocket and held it to the vampire’s heart, hoping the vampire would be too dazed to realize Stiles couldn’t possibly put enough force behind the pencil to drive it into the heart without breaking the pencil first.

“Explain!” Stiles demanded, increasing the pressure of the pencil till the tip broke on the vampire’s now human chest.

“I’m sorry.” The vampire was still confused, now using hands to feel around his mouth for fangs. “What are you?”

Stiles pulled his hand back away from skin, resting only the pencil at the vampire’s chest. The fangs grew immediately, pricking the vampire’s fingers as they still poked around his mouth for them.

“I thought you were alone. I thought you were theeking me or one of my kind out. Pleathe, I did not mean to prethume.” The vampire’s regrown fangs caused a lisp.

“I’m preternatural. Didn’t your maker tell you of my kind?” Stiles looked on perplexed. Vampires, ghosts, and werewolves were able to hold onto a small sliver of life that refused to be extinguished. They owed their existence to the ability to hold onto that life, keeping them from death, but not enough, once transformed, to qualify as truly alive. It did come with other perks, so Stiles supposed it was an even trade-off. Most of them knew that people like Stiles existed, born with too much life, whose very touch could give a supernatural, if only temporarily, enough life to become as alive as a non-supe.

The Bureau of Unnatural Registry (BUR), a division of the FBI, were the only group that actually referred to Stiles’s kind as preternatural. Stiles liked the term. The vampires’ term was far less complimentary. Stiles’s kind had once hunted them, though, and vampires had long memories. Most non-supernaturals had no ideas preternaturals existed, but any vampire out alone without a maker should have been warned of a preternatural’s touch, especially a vampire in a city known to host one.

The vampire looked embarrassed and confused. But after a moment, his eyes narrowed into craftiness. Suddenly his hand shot out, attempting to grab Stiles’s neck. Apparently, he had decided if he could not suck Stiles’s blood, strangulation was acceptable. Stiles jerked at the same time, the pencil sliding into skin slightly.

The vampire stood, knocking Stiles back. He scrambled for the baseball bat, trying to find something to defend himself with. Just as he grabbed the bat, the vampire through him across the room, sending Stiles crashing into the footboard of a wooden bed. Stiles grabbed a splinter of wood as long as his forearm, standing at turning towards the vampire holding both the splinter and the bat.

As he turned though, intending only to threaten the vampire, the vampire charged. The force of the charge combined with Stiles’s turning motion pushed the splinter into the vampire’s heart, right next to a now broken piece of pencil.

The vampire seized for a moment. He then fell backward, flopping limply. His pale skin turned ash gray and he went still. Although there was the increasing smell of death in the room, the vampire’s body did not disintegrate or decay, leading to Stiles to believe that this must have been a very young vampire indeed.

Stiles intended to merely leave the room, leaving no one the wiser to his actions. As he stepped towards the door, though, a couple stumbled through. Stiles jumped back to avoid a collision and in doing so, noticed that he must have gotten a concussion in the fight. Suddenly finding his head swimming, Stiles merely sunk onto the capsized bed while a girl (who, really, couldn’t be more than 18, Stiles thought through the haze of pain) screamed and her hookup for the night starting drunkenly yelling into his phone at 911. Stiles felt it was easier to just lie back, although he had to use a leg to steady himself on the broken bedframe.

After what seemed like either hours or five minutes, Stiles wasn’t sure, he heard a sound he half anticipated, half dreaded. An authoritative voice cleared the room of the drunk partier who had called 911, other interested party goers over 21 (those underage had long since cleared out), and anyone else milling about. The voice ordered everyone to get out while he got a statement in a tone that allowed for no refusal.

Silence descended.

“Stilinski, get up. Don’t make me call your father,” came the voice in Stiles’s left ear. The voice was low and had a slight growl. Stiles merely sighed and pulled himself up.

“And a good evening to you Agent Hale. Lovely weather tonight, isn’t it?” He patted his hair for a moment, in an attempt to smooth it out, before remembering he probably had a head injury and any contact merely exacerbated the pain. Stiles tried to look about for Agent Hale’s second in command, Agent Argent. Hale tended to remain calmer when his Beta was present. In fact, that appeared to be Argent’s main role in Hale’s life.

“Agent Argent! How nice to see you! Agent Argent. Argent Agent. Do you know how much fun it is to say your name?”

It was possible Stiles’s head injury was worse than he initially thought. That didn’t stop him from smiling in relief when he saw the Beta in question. Agent Chris Argent was a slight, sandy-haired gentleman, who retained a calm and tidy disposition no matter the circumstances. He nodded as he pulled on his tie, expertly matched to a dark, tailored suit that had not a button out of place.

“Good to see you again, Stiles.” His voice was quiet, but authoritative.

“Chris, stop humoring him.” Agent Derek Hale was much larger than his Beta and not nearly as calm. Or, at least he always seemed to be angry in the presence of Stiles, ever since the swimming pool incident (which really, honestly, had not been his fault). He did have unreasonably pretty green eyes, dark almost black hair, and a particularly nice mouth. The eyes were currently glaring at Stiles from a very intimate distance.

“Why is it, Mr. Stilinski, that every time I have to clean up an incident around this campus, you happen to be in the middle of it?”

Stiles glared and brushed down the front of his wrinkled, now torn, and still very tight shirt, checking for previously missed injuries.

Agent Derek Hale appreciatively watched him do it. Stiles Stilinski might have a mouth that wouldn’t shut, but there was nothing wrong with the rest of him. Hale would have to be actually dead to not notice this appetizing fact. Of course, Stiles always spoiled the appeal by opening his mouth and refusing to close it. In his experience, and Hale had plenty, the world had yet to produce a more annoyingly verbose person, male or female.

Argent coughed softly to get his Alpha’s attention. Hale’s gaze quickly turned. Argent was crouched over the vampire, examining the splinter.

“Very little mess. Almost complete lack of blood. There should have been something when this pencil went in.” Argent indicated the piece of broken pencil still barely sticking out of the vampire’s chest.

“You tried to kill him with a pencil?” Hale’s gaze swung back towards Stiles accusingly.

“Well, I wasn’t trying to kill him. Just threaten him a little bit. And it was all that was handy. I didn’t come up here to fight a vampire, did I?” Stiles retorted.

Argent interrupted them once again by taking a loud sniff of the vampire’s body. “Definitely Manhattan.”

Hale seemed to understand. He turned his gaze to the vampire. “He must have been starving.”

“Starvation would explain why the vampire was desperate enough to try for Stiles at a party, rather than taking to one of the homeless like the smart ones do when they get this bad.”

Stiles grimaced. “No associated hive either.”

Hale arched one black eyebrow. “How could _you_ possibly know that?”

Argent rolled his eyes and explained for both of them. “A hive would never have let their brood get into such a famished condition. We must have a rove on our hands, one completely without ties to the local hive.”

“I have a different theory.” Stiles gestured to the vampire. “Cheap t-shirt and jeans and attending an undergrad house party? No hive would let one of its own out like that.”

“Cheap clothing is no excuse for killing a man,” Hale said archly.

Stiles smiled grimly and evaluated Agent Hale. He was wearing a well-tailored suit that probably cost more than the majority of Stiles’s wardrobe. He had lost the jacket at some point during the night and the shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows, but this merely gave him the look of a successful, if overworked, businessman, rather than a detective. He wasn’t entirely clean-shaven, but Hale could pull off the look without looking scruffy. His tie, pulled loose, was black with a pattern in thread so dark it was hard to make out. Could it be – Stiles grinned with glee – it was. The pattern was tiny crescent moons in dark grey thread. Stiles was certain Hale had only been forced into the tie under great sufferance. He probably preferred to wander shirtless at home. The idea made Stiles shiver oddly.

Derek Hale was normally quite patient. Like most werewolves, he learned to be in polite society. Stiles seemed to bring out the worse in him, though. “Stop trying to change the subject. Tell me what happened.”

Stiles almost refused, hating to be ordered around, but he looked back at Hale and saw that his Hale’s expression had changed to that of a BUR agent’s face. It was one Stiles knew well, as his father was a cop and wore a similar expression while working.

“Fine,” Stiles sighed.

“Fucking preternaturals.” Hale growled out behind an eye roll. Argent continued to examine the body, hardly minding the conversation between Stiles and Hale.

Stiles wrinkled his nose. The fact that he was preternatural had been explained to him at age six by a nice gentleman from the FBI. Along with a Polish given name that nobody was allowed to call him on penalty of death (or at least severe hatred from Stiles), preternatural was something Stiles inherited from his dead mother. Stiles, age six, nodded politely at the man. Then he had begun reading everything he could get his hands on about both preternatural and supernatural alike. He wanted to know as much as he could about himself and about anyone else connected to or affected by his preternatural state.

Hale growled at him again and Stiles decided to get on with the story.

“I came into the room to get some space. I hate undergraduate parties. I see too many of my students here drunk and it's very awkward for me the next time I see them in class. I only came because Erica refused to come alone and drug me along. And then I was attacked! Unprovoked!”

Hale gave him a look. “Stilinski, you know how it is these days. Rove vampires will show up to a party or two if they think they can get a drink. You wandering into the room was precisely what he was waiting for.” He looked Stiles a rude once-over. “Hell, if the moon had been full, I might even have attacked you.”

Stiles glared again, unable to tell if Hale was teasing. The idea of Hale teasing anyone was unimaginable, but at Hale’s words, there was that odd shiver that ran through Stiles again.

Argent, who had been mostly silent, finally spoke again with greater urgency. “Stiles, I do not believe you understand the situation. Unless we can establish self-defense, you could be facing murder charges.”

Hale turned to glare at his Beta. Derek Hale was relatively new to the New York area. He had arrived an unknown entity, challenged for Newark Castle Alpha, and won. He gave young ladies (and quite a few young men) heart palpitations, even outside his wolf form, with a combination of mystery, danger, and well-tailored pants. Having acquire the BUR post, Newark Castle, and some celebrity status from the dispossessed former pack leader, Hale never lacked for society invitations. His Beta, inherited with the pack, had a tense time of it. Bluntness was Hale’s most consistent social gaffe and sometimes it seemed to rub off on the Beta too. He had meant to shock Stiles, but now look subdued.

“Sorry, Stiles. I just mean, we need to get your story. This could be serious.”

“I simply walked in. He launched himself at me, unprovoked. If I had not been preternatural, he would have bled me dry. I simply defended myself.”

Argent nodded. A starving vampire had two legal options: willing drones from the hive or blood-whores by the docks. One simply did not attack a private person uninvited.

Argent once again kneeled by the body. “There are no signs of confinement or torture, so he wasn’t held captive till starvation. Do you know what this means?”

“Someone is making vampires outside of BUR regulations,” replied Hale not quite convinced. He turned back to Stiles. “And you’re sure he attacked you first?”

“Would you like to take a look at my injuries?” Stiles was more than a little frustrated. He launched himself at Hale, pushing his hair aside to show a cut he had sustained to the side of his head. Unfortunately, Stiles had been sure his head injury had improved in the time he had been talking with the BUR agents. His sudden movements caused the pain to resurge, causing him to stumble and fall to the floor, clutching his head. Hale caught him before he landed, worry crossing his features.

“Stiles, dammit. Why didn’t you say you were injured?” Hale rushed out of the room, shouting over his shoulder. “Argent, secure the scene. I’ll be back after I take him to an ER.”

A few hours and one CT scan later, Agent Derek Hale dropped Stiles, now diagnosed with a mild concussion but no hemorrhaging, off with his father, because he was not allowed to stay alone for the night. The elder Stilinski immediately sent his son to his former bedroom to sleep.

“Tell him I’ll find him in a day or two to finish taking his statement.” Hale turned to leave. “And tell him to stay out of trouble.”

Police Commissioner Stilinski snorted at the FBI agent on his doorstep. “If you can get him to do that, tell me your secret.”

Hale briefly smirked before stepping out into the black New York night to return to his Beta and an unknown dead vampire.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to follow me at my tumblr dedicated solely to original works (which at the moment consists entirely of Teen Wolf fic and Doctor Who fanvids) [here](http://scs12.tumblr.com/) or my multi-fandom/general tumblr [here](http://theycallmethejackal.tumblr.com/).

Stiles Stilinski kept his effervescent state quite hush-hush, even from his father. He was no different than any other living, breathing human, mind you. There were simply complications that came with his state that he’d rather keep from people if at all possible. Neither his father, his coworkers, nor any of his friends ever noticed anything odd. Stiles seemed to them only a doctoral student and junior lecturer whose busy workload kept him focused on his research into supernatural creatures. Stiles thought it ridiculous to try explaining preternaturals to the masses when even the textbooks – standard or specialized - didn’t mention them.

“Would you look at this?” Erica Reyes waved a copy of the morning’s paper across a table at their favorite diner. Stiles’s father barely batted an eye, too focused on cutting up the pancakes in front of them. But Stiles decided to humor her. “What is it?”

Erica pointed to a section of the paper. “Apparently Agent Derek Hale, most eligible of the city’s bachelors, was at that party last night! How did I miss him? Why did I leave so early?” Stiles grabbed the paper, ignoring Erica’s diatribe into the appearance of one Derek Hale.

He frowned in annoyance. He was under the impression that Hale was going to keep everything quiet and out of the papers. He refused to acknowledge that Hale’s mere appearance at a party, particularly one attended by young, drunk females with cell phone cameras meant that the endeavor was practically impossible. After all, Hale’s specialty was purportedly performing several miracles before the sun rose. Once he realized his name was not listed in the article, he handed the paper back to Erica.

“You disappeared for a while last night, Stiles. Did you see him?”

Stiles shook his head, but could tell by Erica’s glare that she knew he was lying. “You did! You ran into Derek Hale and you didn’t tell me! How many times is that now? Why do you get all the luck?”

Stiles looked at her in annoyance. “Trust me, it’s not luck. I wish I never had to run into that man. I woke this morning thinking of all the rude things I could have said, but didn’t have time to.”

Commissioner Stilinski chuckled, a twinkle lighting in his eyes that Stiles did not want to think about.

They rose to leave the diner, the elder Stilinski leaving enough cash on the table to cover both the food and a sizeable tip. The owner looked at him. “John, you know you don’t pay here.”

“Just consider it a very large tip.” As a beat cop, Stilinski had once saved the owner from an armed robber. The diner’s owner attempted to refuse payment every time either Stiles or his father came in, but they always made sure to tip enough to cover whatever they ate.

They left, Stiles grabbing a baseball bat and glove he had leaned against their booth when they arrived.

“Stiles, do you really think you should be playing today?” Stiles’s father glanced pointedly at the cut and slight bruise still evident on his head.

“Dad, I’m fine. It was just an accident yesterday. Plus, I’m the only person on the department softball team under the age of 40. If I don’t show up to practice, nobody will get anything done.”

John Stilinski sighed but made a motion at Stiles to continue on. “Just call me later, okay kid?”

Stiles nodded and they parted ways, Erica following Stiles.

The day was a nice one and Erica linked her arm through Stiles’s as they walked the streets. Stiles was still too aggravated thinking about Derek Hale to notice. There was something about the way Stiles always spoke about Hale that roused Erica’s suspicions. Erica thought he was good looking and a decent, if slightly overworked, werewolf, but was a little too dominant for her tastes. She liked to be in control.

Stiles, who had been debating with himself, finally spoke. “The reason he was there last night, Hale, I mean, was because I was attacked by a vampire.” Erica turned to face him, shocked. “No wonder you stayed with your dad last night. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I stabbed him with a pencil.” Erica snorted at this.

“What exactly happened?”

Stiles told her.

“You killed him?” This time Erica looked a little squeamish.

“It was by accident!” insisted Stiles.

“Well, Hale covered things up well. There was no mention of it in the paper. They couldn’t even decide if he was at the party for a case or for some other reason. Although the writer hoped it was a case, because they couldn’t believe he’d be at a college house party, no matter how big.” Erica paused for a moment. “That’s where the head injury came from?”

“Yea. I told my dad that I got injured tripping on the stairs and tried to call him and instead called Hale on accident. You know I still have his number from that werewolf case that took place on campus last year.”

“You know you owe him, right?”

Stiles look as if he had swallowed something particularly disgusting. “I do not. It’s his job to keep this quiet. Supervisory Special Agent of BUR in New York and New Jersey or whatever his title is. I’m under no obligation to someone who was merely doing his job. Besides, it was probably Argent that dealt with the press.”

Erica felt Stiles really didn’t get Hale enough credit. Simply because he was immune to the good looks and charm didn’t mean the rest of the world was. Hale was not native to New York, but he had been Alpha for what, twenty years? Not long by werewolf standards, but long enough. There were rumors about how he defeated the last Newark Alpha. However, his predecessor was depraved and even the members of the pack seemed relieved when Hale had taken over. Hale might be new to New York, but he was good at holding his power. Erica was impressed.

“I think you’re pretty hard on him. He did take you to the hospital.”

“I can’t help it. I just don’t like him.”

They were interrupted by a mellow feminine voice.

The voice came from a top a sleek black motorcycle. Behind the handlebars sat a tall, slim woman with dark hair and a smile. Everything clashed about the arrangement; from the girl, who wore all black leather that did not match her facial expression at all, to the bike, which seemed to be taller than she was. She had a pleasant expression, though. Unfamiliar with her, Stiles and Erica made to keep walking, already running late to Stiles’s softball practice, but the woman spoke again.

“Do I have the pleasure of addressing Stiles Stilinski?”

Erica and Stiles looked at each other. Her manner of speech was highly formalized and anyone who knew who Stiles was automatically made him wary. Growing up with a highly public police officer for a father would do that.

“Yes. Who are you?”

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” The girl gestured around, ignoring the question.

“Sure,” said Stiles. “Have we met?”

“I am Braeden Tandy and now we have.”

“Hello. This is Erica.”

Erica, upon hearing the girl’s name, looked much more enthusiastic. “The singer!” she hissed in Stiles’s ear. “You know! She’s dating one of the twins – or both of them – that are on that cop show your dad likes?”

Stiles, who did not know, figured he could fake it. “Oh. Yea, of course. Well, what do you need?”

Braeden explained herself at last. “You see, my mistress would like to visit with you, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Your mistress?”

The singer nodded. It took a moment, but Stiles finally realized what was going on. “Oh, you’re a drone!”

Braeden nodded again. “Are you free this evening, Mr. Stilinski?”

Stiles didn’t want to go into a hive uninformed, although he had no plans. So he said firmly, “Unfortunately, I have something else to do.” He quickly decided to call Laura Hale, to see if she had dinner plans. She probably knew what this was about. She liked ridiculous scarves and more shoes than she could wear in a year, but she also liked to know things.

“Tomorrow night, then?” Braden looked hopeful. This request must have been particularly important.

Stiles nodded.

Braden handed him a sealed envelope. “Please do not share this address with anyone.”

“Who should I ask for?”

“Miss Marin Morrell.”

That was a name Stiles knew. Morrell was one of the oldest living vampires, purportedly incredibly beautiful, impossibly cruel, and extremely polite. She was queen of the Manhattan Hive. Stiles suddenly looked at Braeden with renewed interest. Stiles was not supposed to know many of the things that went on in Morrell’s circle, let alone her hive, but he read too much. Many of the books at his father’s house were left over from his mother’s time. Stiles’s mother clearly felt a strong inclination toward literature concerning the supernatural, so Stile had a decently clear concept of what occurred in a hive. Braeden must be something more than a singer.

Braeden smiled, climbed back atop the motorcycle and pealed off.

Erica looked pale. “You know what that is?”

Stiles swallowed. “Of course I know.” But he said so quietly.

“You have been given the actual address of a hive, Stiles. They are either going to recruit you or drain you dry. And after you killed one of them! No humans have that information!”

Stiles looked uncomfortable. He was wondering how the hive might react to a preternatural in their midst. Not kindly, he suspected. “I need to talk to Laura.”

\--

She pranced into the room, teetering about on five-inch red and gold heels. “My darling, darling Stiles.” Laura Hale seemed to speak predominantly in italics. “How deliciously, delightful of you to invite me to dinner.”

Stiles smiled. It was impossible not to. In addition to her heels, Laura wore a shimmering tight gold dress and arms and neck draped in ruby jewelry. With fluid motion, she settled in the chair opposite Stiles.

Stiles had merely invited her over for dinner at the cramped apartment he shared with Erica near campus. It was not nearly as large or stylish as Laura was used to, nor did her clothes fit in at all. Laura, however, felt comfortable in whatever situation she found herself. Erica had taken off, trying to stay out of Stiles’s business with the vampires, so Stiles had the place to himself.

Laura’s entrance was appreciated by no one more important than Finstock, a retired cop and Stiles’s sometimes bodyguard when his father was feeling particularly protective. Stiles had arrived home earlier to find Finstock on his doorstep. Apparently his father did not quite believe his story about tripping on the stairs.

“I hear that you were quite scandalous at a party last night, my dear.” Only Laura could make killing a man sound like Stiles had been caught hooking up in public rather than possibly committing a crime.

Laura may act like a thoughtless society bimbo, though, but Stiles knew she had one of the sharpest minds in the city. Any paper would pay half its income for the information she seemed have at any given time. Stiles privately though Laura had drones working at all the city’s major hot spots, to better pick up any interesting gossip.

“You know why I wanted to have dinner, then?”

“Oh, honey. You invited me because you could not bear to be without my company a single moment longer. And I shall be cut to the very quick of my extensive soul if your reason is anything else.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Of course, of course. I am convinced that your visit has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I killed a vampire yesterday at a party.”

“Oh dear, of course it does.” Lightning-fast, Laura grabbed Stiles’s free hand. Her fangs vanished. Some color seeped back into her cheeks and her effortless grace seemed to take slightly more effort.

It had taken Laura just two meetings to realize he was preternatural. Estranged from the Manhattan Hive, she had never been officially informed. As a result, she took every opportunity to remind herself of what Stiles was, grabbing his arm or hand on a whim.

Stiles sipped the whiskey he had set out. “The vampire last night did not know what I was,” he said. “He came charging right at me, went straight for my neck, and then lost his fangs. I thought you all knew by now. BUR certainly keeps track of me. Agent Hale appeared much faster last night than I would have expected.”

Laura looked up seriously. “They do, normally. All official hives tell vampires immediately upon metamorphosis that there is a spark in New York.”

Stiles winced. Spark had once only been a nickname due to the spark of extra life preternaturals were able to share with supernaturals, but soon came to denote the weapon a preternatural used to kill. Preternaturals were once used to hunt down supernaturals. Fire became the choice murder weapon for preternaturals, probably because supernaturals could not escape it even once the preternatural touch was gone. Usually Laura was sensitive to his dislike of the term. She had first used it in his presence when she realized what he was, but was usually careful not to use the term unless she had a point to make.

Stiles removed his hand from Laura’s grasp. “Laura, what is going on? Who attacked me? How could he not know who I was? He was not even aware preternaturals existed at all.”

“My dear, that is the problem.” Laura suddenly showed her age in her face. “Since you killed the man, every supernatural believes you know the answers.”

“Well, that explains her invitation, then,” Stiles sighed.

“Whose invitation?”

“Marin Morrell.”

Laura sat up straight and hissed. “Queen of the Manhattan Hive.”

Finstock appeared in the doorway, noting Stiles’s agitated demeanor, but Stiles shook his head and Finstock retreated.

Stiles studied Laura closely. She was a female rove – a hiveless vampire. Roves were rare. Female roves were even rarer. It took a lot of power to separate from a hive. Usually those females with enough power became a queen. The very few in between with enough power to leave, but not enough to start a hive became a rove. Laura, Stiles was sure, might have been powerful enough even to become the queen of her own hive, but probably would not have appreciated the tether to a single home that bound queens.

“What do you think she wants from me?”

“I am not sure. You might ask the werewolves before you see her tomorrow.” Laura gave Stiles a lascivious look. Stiles was sure Laura thought there more going on between Stiles and Hale than there really was. Stiles glared at her.

However, Laura did suddenly look earnest. “Promise me that you’ll talk to Derek before you meet with Marin. Do not go in unprepared.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Dammit,” said Agent Derek Hale upon seeing who stood between him and his office. “Stilinski, what did I do? I haven’t even had a second cup of coffee yet.” He loomed over Stiles. They were about the same height, but where Stiles was slight and slender, Hale was broad and all muscle.

Stiles ignored his greeting and swept past him into the room. The act of sweeping, and the fact that the doorway was quite narrow while Derek Hale was not, brought Stiles into intimate contact with the federal agent. Stiles was embarrassed to note he tingled a bit, clearly a reaction to the repulsive state of the man’s office.

There were papers everywhere. Stiles was not a neat person, but even he was disgusted at the state of the office. There were dirty dishes and a large platter that held the remains of raw meat in the corner. Stiles had been in the office once or twice before and it had never appeared this bad.

“This is disgusting. Where’s Argent?”

Hale reached for a nearby mug and drained the coffee remaining.

Stiles looked more closely at him. Hale did not seem well. A fluttering motion flipped through Stiles’s chest. Hale’s dark hair was standing up as if he had been running his hand through it repeatedly. It also looked as if his canines were showing, something that occasionally happened to werewolves, but not something Stiles had ever seen happen to Derek Hale.

“BUR business,” Hale said, trying to explain both Argent’s absence and the state of his office.

Stiles nodded. “I didn’t really expect to find you here, considering the sun is up. I figured you’d be asleep.”

There werewolf shook his head. “I can take the sun for a few days, especially when we have a problem like this. Alpha’s not simply a meaningless title and I _am_ the Alpha. Besides, the higher ups want to know what’s going on. I’ve got the Director and Homeland Security breathing down my neck.”

“Well, you look like shit.”

“Gee, thank you Stilinski.”

“What have you been doing to yourself?” Stiles asked, concerned.

“I haven’t slept since you were attacked. I’m trying to get to the bottom of this,” said Hale.

“Concerned for my safety? I never knew you cared so much,” Stiles sarcastically replied.

Hale rolled his eyes. “Hardly. I’m overseeing the investigation. I’m concerned that others could be attacked. You did okay by yourself.”

Stiles was torn between being pleased Hale thought he could take care of himself and crushed that he didn’t seem to care for Stiles’s safety.

Stiles moved some papers out of the way of a chair. “Rove registrations? You think the vampire may have had a permit?”

Hale, exasperated, snatched the papers away. For all his blustering around, though, he was secretly pleased to have someone to bounce ideas off of. Usually Argent helped him out, but with his Beta out of town, he had been muttering to himself. “If he had a permit, it wasn’t in New York or New Jersey.”

“Could he have come from somewhere else?”

Hale shrugged. “You know how territorial vampires are. Even without hive ties, roves will stay in the area they were made. Why come here? That’s what I sent Argent to find out.”

Stiles understood. Argent was probably visiting some of the smaller BUR or FBI field offices around the two states to see if they had any idea. Any farther and email or phone calls would have to suffice, but using Argent’s werewolf senses in person on the closer offices couldn’t hurt.

“Argent started in Buffalo then?” Stiles guessed.

Hale spun to stare at him intently. His eyes were flashing slightly red, hiding their true green underneath. “I hate when you do that,” he growled. “What, guess correctly?” Stiles retorted.

“No, make me feel predictable.”

“Buffalo borders Canada. If he came from anywhere that the FBI doesn’t already have information on yet, it’s likely to be out of the country. You don’t think he came outside of the city though, do you? Because Argent said he smelled local?”

Hale nodded. “I went to the house after leaving you with your dad. Marin denies any association with your attacker. She looked about as shocked as I think it is possible for her to be. And usually a hive is proud to have created a new vampire. I think they would have taken credit.”

It was no secret that it was difficult to make a new supernatural. It was impossible to tell beforehand if a human would be able to keep a hold of the last glimmer of life to keep from a true death. Many vampire drones and werewolf clavigers attempted the change early, to preserve their youth, so their deaths were even sadder.

Of course, both BUR and Stiles knew that low numbers were all the kept supernaturals safe from the public. Hale’s pack had only 11 members and the Manhattan hive had only 8. Both were among the largest in the United States.

“Only a hive queen can change a new vampire. Yet you have a new vampire with no maker. Either Argent’s nose or Marin is lying. I had dinner with Laura Hale last night. Do you think it could have been her?” Stiles asked.

“No.” Derek Hale shook his head. Stiles had tried multiple times to determine whether there was any sort of relation between the Alpha werewolf and rove vampire, but neither would say a word. They interacted as required by society, but no more, so far as Stiles knew. “She doesn’t have the power. I talked to her late last night, of course, but it couldn’t have been her. She can still leave her house, for one. She obviously isn’t leading a hive. There aren’t any other female vampires in the area, either.” Hale sighed. “Enough of business that you shouldn’t be looking into. What brought you here at this ungodly hour?”

“She did.”

“Who, Laura?” Hale huffed. “And she couldn’t have bothered to warn me last night? Of course not. Why do you associate with her?”

“I like her. We have fun together.”

Hale abruptly looked more angry than exhausted. “What? What is she luring you in with? I swear I’ll go over and strangle her vampire neck.”

Stiles grinned, knowing he struck a nerve. He wasn’t sure what Hale’s problem with Laura and Stiles’s friendship was, but he got irritated every time it was mentioned. Hale was pacing around, looking magnificent, teeth definitely showing, but dangerous. Stiles got up and grabbed Hale’s wrist. Hale’s red eyes suddenly faded back to their natural green and his teeth retracted.

Hale made to pull away, so Stiles placed a second hand on his chest. What he wanted to say was – don’t be an idiot. What he actually said was, “I needed advice on vampire matters. I thought it was easier to see her than bother you.” As if he would ever come to Hale for help willingly. He was only here now because he promised Laura and Laura _always_ knew when someone broke a promise. Hale’s hand came up to his chest to cover Stiles’s.

Stiles’s hand became very warm and he found that he knees reacted when in such close proximity. He was glad Hale’s hand covering his own made it seem less like he was leaning on Hale than was strictly true. Standing on his own may not have been entirely possible at that moment.

“Marin Morrell asked for a visit. I needed some information before I went.”

This distracted Hale from his homicidal thoughts of Laura. He refused to analyze why he was opposed to Stiles liking the female rove. He shook himself, but then found himself growing angry again as he pictured Stiles going alone into the Manhattan Hive.

“Start from the beginning.”

Stiles explained about meeting Braeden in the park and his instructions to meet with Manhattan Queen. He then explained Laura’s advice on the matter. “You know, she suggested I see you before going to the hive tonight.”

“What? She thinks you should go? No.” And then Hale said the exact wrong thing. “I forbid you to go.”

“You forbid me? Forbid me? No thank you!” Stiles made to leave.

“I’m the head of BUR in this area and preternaturals fall under my jurisdiction.”

“And if you want to restrict my rights to travel in the city for no reason, you’ll have to arrest me first. Good luck with that, by the way, considering my father is the police commissioner!”

“Stiles!”

Stiles knew any time Hale actually called him something other than Stilinski, he was in trouble.

Hale took a deep breath, trying to calm down. It didn’t work, as he was much too close to Stiles. Even their argument hadn’t brought them more than an arm’s length apart from when Stiles grabbed Hale to calm him down. Stiles smelled good. Like good whiskey and the vanilla of old books. He leaned in.

Stiles swatted him on the arm. “Hale! What are you doing?”

Hale let go of Stiles, returning to his werewolf strength and senses. “This hive will not trust you. They have always believed you are the enemy and last night did nothing to change their minds.”

“I’ve already accepted. It would be rude to just not show up.”

“You’re an idiot. Why do you insist on getting involved?”

“I killed a man last night! I want to know why!”

Hale sighed. He knew he had lost this battle. “Fine.” He started to grab his jacket off the back of a chair. “Do you need a ride somewhere? I’m heading out on my way home for the day.”

“I’m going to work over on campus, if you wouldn’t mind.” Stiles was thinking of the piles of essays he needed to grade. Then a very bad thought struck him. “But you’ll have to drop me off a little ways from my building. I’ll never live down getting a ride from you after the last time people from the department found the two of us together.”

Hale shuddered, remembering the pool incident. “Fine.”

But he paused, annoyed that Stiles wouldn’t want to be seen with him. Then he wondered at his own annoyance in thinking any such thing. He could not stand Stiles Stilinski, even if he smelled good and looked great in that tight v-neck two nights before.

He hustled Stiles out of the office, intent on getting to campus and away from him as quickly as possible.

\--

Agent Chris Argent had long ago learned that it was best to change out of werewolf shape away from company, preferably in an alley where the only person likely to see him was just as likely to be drunk or high. While the population of America had learned to accept werewolves on principle, to be faced with one changing was a different matter. Argent was good at the change – quiet and quick, despite the pain. Younger pack members tended to writhe in pain. The change was, at its root, a rearrangement of skin, bone, and fur. This was enough to scare most non-supes.

Argent reached the Buffalo BUR offices just before dawn. The change only took moments. He carried a long coat in his mouth during his run and threw it one once he was back in human form. He rested against the door until the first off the morning shift arrived.

“Who are you?” the man wanted to know.

“Newark Castle pack Alpha. BUR agent. Who is in charge of vampire registration in this office?”

“George. He’ll be around soon. There’s clothes in the coat closet and I’ll send one of the interns to the butcher for you.”

Argent quickly changed and waited for the aforementioned George to appear. While he waited, he snacked on sausage – uncooked – that the intern brought. When George arrived, they immediately got down to business.

“What do you need to know?”

“Buffalo has one hive, correct? Any recent metamorphosis?”

“Not that I’m aware of and I very much doubt one would occur that I would be unaware of.”

“Anything else out of the ordinary?”

George looked annoyed. “Our hive is well behaved. They’re very little bother so far as BUR as concerned.”

“Any new roves?”

“No.” George paused. “Of course, I haven’t heard from any of the registered roves in a while.”

Argent looked up. “What?”

“They’ve been disappearing.”

“How many have gone missing?”

“All of them.”

Argent sighed. Vampires were very tied to their territory and could not roam away from home for long. Missing roves most likely meant dead roves. This should have been brought to BUR’s attention long before now. Argent managed a neutral nod and left.

A strange gentlemen met him at the coat closet. Argent knew immediately he was a werewolf.

“This office has no werewolves on staff.”

“No, sir,” said the man, nodding in a way that bared the side of his neck. “I’m not BUR. There is no pack in this city. I’ve got no pack.”

Argent grimaced. “Omega.” His hackles raised. Omegas were the cause of brawling, violence, feasting on humans, and other illegal activities that led to problems for BUR. They were much more common than vampire roves and more dangerous.

“I’ve been waiting for you to get here. My claviger told me so I thought I should come report. The disappearances have stopped.”

Argent was exasperated. “I know about the disappearances. I just spoke with George.”

“No, he’s on vampires. Werewolves have gone missing, sir. But it’s stopped. I thought I should report.”

Argent nodded, pondering the situation. “I have got to leave,” he said. “But if the disappearances start again, let me know immediately.”

“I can’t do that, sir,” said the werewolf, fear creeping into his voice. “I’m the only one left. If they start again, I’ll be the one to go.”

Instead of going on to Rochester, Argent headed straight back to New York City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to follow me at my tumblr dedicated solely to original works (which at the moment consists entirely of Teen Wolf fic and Doctor Who fanvids) [here](http://scs12.tumblr.com/) or my multi-fandom/general tumblr [here](http://theycallmethejackal.tumblr.com/).


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles was embarrassed to find himself reduced to sneaking out of his own apartment. He was in his late 20’s, he shouldn’t have to sneak anywhere. Unfortunately, Finstock did not seem to care his age, his reason for leaving, or how Stiles pled that he would be fine without a bodyguard. Finstock had been a friend of his mother’s before she had died. He had in fact been the friend that introduced Stiles’s mother and father. Stiles’s meddling, John Stilinski swore, was inherited from Stiles’s mother and Finstock had plenty of practice dealing with it long before Stiles’s parents had even met. As such, Stiles was currently being forced to sneak out of his apartment window and to a waiting taxi.

The taxi finally stopped at an address is one of the swankier ends of town. Anticipating a short visit, Stiles paid the taxi to wait and rushed up the front steps.

A maid opened the door at his approach. She was very with pretty, with dark brown hair and enormous brown eyes.

“Mr. Stilinski?” she asked.

Stiles nodded, smoothing out his clothes. He hadn’t been sure what to wear so opted for something in between what he normally wore on a date and wore to teach classes. He had on dark gray slacks and a fitted and somewhat stylish, black button-down shirt. He had not worn a tie, but made sure the shirt was buttoned high enough to keep his neck covered, mindful of his experience just a few nights previously.

“The Queen is expecting you. Right this way.” The maid led him down a long hallway. She moved gracefully, almost like a hunter stalking prey. Stiles felt very clumsy next to her.

As Stiles walked through the townhouse, he began to get very nervous. He understood style well enough to know that it surrounded him. Then he straightened his back. The son of a single father/cop could not compete with the grandeur, but he had been invited here. He had not requested it. He took a deep breath.

The maid opened the door to a drawing room, let Stiles in, and silently swept away.

“Mr. Stilinski! Welcome to the Manhattan Hive!” The woman who came forward somehow looked both exactly what Stiles pictured and the exact opposite of it. She was tall and slender, with cocoa skin, dark brown eyes, and a pleasant expression. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, far from what Stiles expected (although he was sure they were designer and therefore cost much more than his own clothes), but she held herself in a regal way.

“Miss Morrell?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes, dear! And this is Aiden and Ethan,” she said, gesturing to a pair of identical twins. “That gentleman there is Ennis, and you know Braeden.”

Aside from Braeden, who smiled pleasantly, nobody seemed pleased to see him. Braeden was also the only drone pleasant.

“If you don’t mind, might I shake your hand?” The Manhattan queen moved toward Stiles suddenly. Up close, she looked far less pleasant and far more calculating. “I need to confirm your state.”

She grabbed Stiles’s hand firmly. The moment they touched, the hive queen’s calculating features vanished, but none of the regalness did. Stiles wondered if she hadn’t been a true royal at some point.

“My queen, I have to object to this.” The formal words sounded odd coming from the large vampire – Ennis – Stiles thought to himself.

The queen let go of Stiles’s hand. Her fangs reappeared. Glaring at the larger vampire, she hissed, “You overstep, child.”

Ennis looked somber. “I only worry for your safety.”

Aiden or Ethan – Stiles wasn’t sure which – spoke from where he stood. “I agree, my queen. One fatal injury while a spark touches you and you are done.”

“This boy does nothing threatening to us. You are too young to remember the true terror of a spark. He does not have it.”

Stiles was starting to get annoyed at being spoken of as if he were not standing in the middle of all of them. “You asked me to come here. What did you need?”

The vampires seemed to ignore him, too focused on arguing amongst themselves. Braeden noticed Stiles turning to leave, though.

“Please, Mr. Stilinski. They sometimes forget themselves. Do not leave yet. Would you like coffee or perhaps some wine?”

Not trusting himself with alcohol, Stiles acquiesced to coffee. Braeden called through an intercom, “Allison, please bring in some coffee for our guest.” The maid from earlier returned with a tray of coffee, sugar, and cream.

The Manhattan Queen waited until Stiles was halfway through his cup of coffee before reopening their conversation. They made small talk, discussing what Stiles would normally consider celebrity gossip. Since the people he was conversing with were on intimate terms with most of the celebrities in question, though, it seemed somehow odder. The topic of conversation then moved on to Stiles’s job.

“So, you are a student, then? Studying the supernatural?” Braeden inquired.

Stiles nodded. “I’m working on a doctorate in the subject. I also teach some courses on the subject for undergraduates. The university requires all students to take at least one class about supernaturals in effort to produce a well-rounded education.”

Stiles probably could have continued to discuss his work, both as a lecturer and his thesis, but it did not seem to be a subject that interested the vampires overly much. Not flashy enough, he supposed.

“Speaking of the university,” the hive queen segued not so subtly, “What was it that happened during that student party a few nights ago?”

Stiles set down his mug. “I’m sure Agent Hale described it accurately enough.”

No one said anything.

“It was an accident,” mumbled Stiles.

“It was a very tidy stake to the heart,” said Ennis.

Stiles immediately got defensive. “Very tidy. He barely bled at all. I certainly did not drive him to starvation. The vampire was seriously neglected. He had not even been taught what I was.” Stiles finished accusingly.

The queen looked shocked. “He was not one of mine!”

Stiles stood abruptly. “BUR smelled Manhattan bloodline on that dead vampire. You have no right to pin your carelessness on me.”

Ennis crowded Stiles and almost growled, “Spark.” Stiles thought he would have made an admirable werewolf. Stiles merely reached out to touch him and the vampire back away.

Morrell, still sitting, spoke. “You are correct, Mr. Stilinski. This is a hive problem. BUR should not be involved until we know more about the situation. You certainly should not be a part of it.”

“So there has been more than one of these unregistered roves?” Stiles questioned.

The queen glared and repeated, “This is hive business.”

At Morrell’s continued repetition that the situation was hive business, Stiles finally understood that not even the hive knew what was going on. “Please, how many have there been?”

“Three. We have caught two and you took care of the third. They know nothing and are disoriented. They die within days, despite our efforts. The hive structure is more than just an institution. It is our instinct. No vampire is born outside the hive. Only a hive queen can metamorphose a vampire. It is both our greatest strength and greatest weakness.”

Stiles suddenly understood why the vampires did not want BUR interference. If the vampires could learn to create vampires outside the hive, they could create supernaturals without the blood bite.

“What will you do next?” Stiles questioned.

“I have already done it. I have involved you.”

“The potentate will not be pleased.” One of the twins added.

The potentate served as an advisor to the President of the United States. The current potentate had occupied the position since the early 1900’s. The President was reported to find his advice invaluable. Of course, they said the same about the dewan, the President’s werewolf advisor. He was an omega who had been around almost as long as the potentate.

“This is hive business,” the queen repeated again. “For all his power, the potentate is still just a rove.” They sat in silence for a moment.

Stiles realized it was getting late and he had classes to teach the next day. “Thank you for an,” he paused, choosing his next word carefully, “educational visit.”

Braeden, after a nod from Morrell, called for the maid – Allison – through the intercom again. Stiles followed the girl out, feeling relieved to be leaving the townhouse.

As he started down the front steps, Allison grabbed his arm firmly.

“You are with BUR?”

“I’m not quite official, but. . .” Stiles was cut off.

“Can you take them a message?”

Stiles nodded. “Tell me.”

Allison glanced around. “Ask them to look for the missing ones. My master was a rove. He vanished last week. They brought me to the hive because I’m pretty and do good work, but without his protection, I do not know how long I will last. Please try.”

“Try what, exactly?” Stiles was thoroughly confused.

“To find out where the roves are gone, as well as where the new ones come from.”

Stiles was so distracted that when he got into the waiting cab, he did not realize it was not the same one he had taken earlier. Nor did he realize someone was already in it.

Once he did, the cab had already taken off. Stiles tried to open the door, but they were locked in a way that he could not undo.

The man in the cab with him looked towards Stiles. “All I want to know is who are you and what you are doing visiting the Manhattan hive.”

When Stiles did not answer, the man lunged at him with a damp cloth. Stiles thought he could smell chloroform. He tried to kick at the man, but could not land a solid blow. Stiles then did the next best thing – he screamed.

Despite both his screaming and kicking, the chloroform cloth was getting closer. Suddenly, there was an unexpected noise, designed by evolution to chill the bones. It was a snarling howl. It was followed by the wrenching of metal as the cab door was pulled off the entire metal frame of the cab and Stiles spilled out onto a road. He landed on something solid, but fleshy enough to break his fall.

“Dammit Stiles, move!”

Stiles couldn’t claim to be light. Carry enough books and you developed some muscles. But Derek Hale, for it was he that Stiles landed on, should have move him easily, even without supernatural strength.

Hale began running his hands over Stiles to check for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“Aside from my dignity? No, I don’t think so.” Stiles suspected Hale’s handling was a tad more than strictly called for, but he secretly enjoyed it.

Hale reluctantly turned away from Stiles, huffing in annoyance. “See what you’ve done! He got away!”

Stiles, now a lot calmer, rolled his eyes. “I didn’t do anything. You opened – or should I say tore off – the door. I simply fell out. A man was attacking me!”

Hale couldn’t say much to such a defense. Stiles suddenly opted for the attack, feeling he had been on the defensive too often already that night. “Wait, were you following me? How did you find me?”

Hale at least had the grace to look slightly sheepish. “I don’t trust the Manhattan hive. I told you not to come! Look what happened.” Hale growled.

“But I was perfectly safe inside! It wasn’t till I left that things went a little crazy.” Stiles was aware he sounded like a petulant child, but there wasn’t much he could do.

“Exactly!” Hale seemed to latch onto this. “You need to go home where I assume you left that bodyguard I know your dad has for you and stay inside and never go out.” He sounded so serious that Stiles laughed. “You waited this whole time?”

Hale nodded. “Stilinski.” He suddenly reverted to Stiles’s last name. “We should get you home.” Hale started to call BUR for agents to bring a car

“You don’t know want to know what I found out from Morrell, then?” Stiles asked, while they waited.

“I take it you want to tell me?”

Stiles nodded, rubbing at his arms through the thin material of his shirt. Without a word, Hale handed over his jacket. It was a warm, black leather. The shoulders were too large and it dwarfed Stiles, but he did not want to take it off. It smelled of fresh grass and clean air.

“She’s frightened. Other than last night, two other unexplained vampires have appeared. She said they arrive knowing nothing. They don’t even know about me.”

Hale hated to admit it, but Stiles had gotten more information from the hive than any of his agents had managed.

Stiles suddenly had a realization. “The man in the cab wanted to know who I was.”

Hale groaned. “Dammit. They were after you specifically. I was hoping they might just be after any drone or vampire. You realize they are going to try again?”

Stiles nodded. “I’ll try not to give them another opportunity.”

“I’ll have to set a watch on you. More than just Finstock. He’s getting on in age.”

Stiles was surprised Hale knew so much about the bodyguard Stiles’s father hired. “What about on full moons?”

Hale winced. “BUR has daylight and vampire agents.”

Stiles shook his head. “I won’t have strangers following me everywhere. You, certainly. Argent is fine, but not others.”

Hale couldn’t quite keep a foolish grin off his face when he realized he merited a “certainly”. It disappeared quickly with Stiles’s next statement. “What if I arrange to be around Laura during the full moon?”

Hale glared. “I’m certain her shoe collection would be extremely helpful in a fight. If you used them as ammo, I suppose you might never run out.”

Stiles grinned. “You almost sound jealous every time I mention Laura.” Stiles snorted. “Of course, that is absurd. Now, if you’ll—“

Stiles was cut off by Derek hale turning him and, to Stiles’s complete surprise, kissing him full on the lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to follow me at my tumblr dedicated solely to original works (which at the moment consists entirely of Teen Wolf fic and Doctor Who fanvids) [here](http://scs12.tumblr.com/) or my multi-fandom/general tumblr [here](http://theycallmethejackal.tumblr.com/).


	5. Chapter 5

The FBI agent grabbed Stiles’s chin with one big band and the small of his back with the other, pulling him toward him hard. He slammed their mouths together hard. Stiles jerked back, but was unable to move out of Hale’s grip. “What are you doing?”

“It’s the only way to keep you quiet,” Hale grumbled. He took Stiles’s chin in a firmer grip and planted their mouths together once again.

It was not the kind of kiss Stiles had experienced before. Stiles was no stranger to kissing – or more – of course. However, Derek Hale’s kiss was on another level. Which was to be expected, considering his years or possibly even centuries, of experience. Trapped as he was by Hale’s embrace, Stiles couldn’t have struggled if he wanted to. Not, Stiles thought, that he would want to.

After the initial violence of the embrace, the kiss was slow and gentle. Stiles did not approve. Finding that he could move his arms slightly, he grabbed Hale by the shirt and pulled him in closer. The kiss became harder, rougher, and far more passionate.

Just as Stiles was about to pull away, in need of air, Hale stopped. He moved down, nibbling down Stiles’s neck. Stiles had about 5 seconds to register that he was going to have a mark there the next day before he stopped thinking at all. Stiles let out a small whimper.

Someone cleared his throat nearby. Hale ignored them.

Stiles tried to push him away. “Hale… Hale… Derek!” The use of his given name finally caused Hale to look up. Stiles was grateful Hale’s hand was still supporting him, as he wasn’t completely sure he could stand right them.

“Excuse me, sir.” Argent was rolling his eyes. He was leaning against a car that had to be the BUR car Hale had called for.

“You could have chosen a better time,” said Hale in exasperation.

“Possibly, but this is important.” Argent looked neither afraid of Hale nor embarrassed by the display he’d seen.

“Didn’t I send you across the state?” Stiles was glad that Hale’s annoyed tone was directed at someone else for once.

“I uncovered a situation in Buffalo. All but one omega in the area, plus a number of roves, has gone missing.”

Hale jerked in surprise. Stiles tried to step away, aware that he was still plastered to Hale’s side. Hale grabbed him by the waist and yanked him back.

Argent’s eyes followed to interaction and Stiles had the vague sense that he was secretly laughing at them.

“One of the drones at the Manhattan hive said the same thing about roves here. Many of them are missing. What about New York omegas?” Stiles asked.

“We don’t have any.” Argent said proudly. “Well, other than the dewan.” Hale let out a growl. Stiles got the impression that Hale was not a big fan of the dewan.

“And someone is trying to get you as well,” added Hale.

“What?” Argent looked concerned. Stiles was touched.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Hale growled. “I’ll get him home for now.”

Derek Hale saw Stiles back to his apartment, where an annoyed Finstock was waiting. Stiles was immediately told to call his father to prove that he was alive and unhurt. Being brought home by a federal agent 2 out of 3 nights was definitely not going to convince his father that he was fine.

Stiles peeked out his window a few minutes before he went to sleep. He was enormously comforted to see a giant black wolf pacing the alley below his room.

\--

“He did what?” Erica almost dropped her cup of coffee. They were sitting at the kitchen table the next morning. Erica had not been home when Stiles had arrived the night before.

“I _said_ , Derek Hale kissed me last night.”

“Where? Why? How?” Erica smirked at the high collared shirt and blazer Stiles was wearing, as if it wasn’t what he normally wore to teach every day. “I thought you hated him. I thought _he_ hated _you_.”

“Well, I may have been wrong about that.” Stiles could feel his cheeks burning.

“Tell me what happened.”

“After I sent to see the hive queen, someone tried to abduct me from a fake cab.”

“Stiles,” said Erica, growing a lot less curious and a lot more serious. “This is twice in a week. You need to tell your dad.”

“I told Derek.” Stiles had been thinking of him as Hale for quite some time. Calling him by his first name would take some getting used to, but he thought Hale didn’t seem quite right any more. “He’s a federal agent. Plus, once Finstock saw I’d left last night, he called my dad anyway. I had to call and tell him I’d made it home in one piece. Anyway, Derek is keeping an eye on me.”

“Really? Where?”

Stiles went over to a small window above the sink. Pulling aside the curtain (it came with the apartment. Neither he nor Erica had the inclination to decorate.), Stiles pointed to a man nonchalantly reading the paper on a bench across the street.

“That doesn’t look like Hale.”

“It’s not. That’s Argent, his Beta. I think Derek went home to get some sleep.”

“I imagine. Sounds like you had a busy night.” Erica waggled her eyebrows.

“Oh, come on. We didn’t do any of that. He kissed me on the street – I think because I wouldn’t shut up. Argent interrupted us.”

Erica looked slightly deflated. But then her eyes lit up. “There’s that dinner thing tonight for the department, isn’t there? All the more powerful supernaturals in the area are always invited. Surely you’ll see him there.”

“Erica, he’s never attended a single university event, even if we do have one of the best supernatural programs on the east coast. He only shows up on campus if it involves a case.”

“Yes, but _you’ll_ be there,” she answered smugly.

\--

Although he continued to tell himself that Hale wouldn’t show, Stiles dressed with care for the department’s event.

Anytime a new researcher came to the university for a period of time, the department made a show of welcoming them, including a dinner with a number of the city’s supernaturals. Stiles hated them, but didn’t have enough seniority to skip the event.

Stiles dressed in his best suit – bought for him by Laura when she needed an escort for some event or another. Stiles was pretty sure it cost more than he made in a month. But he also knew it looked good. It was a black pinstripe suit with white shirt. Stiles wore it with no tie, but buttoned the shirt high, more to hide the marks Derek had made the night before than for style.

It was all for naught. Hale, who did actually show up to the dinner for once, did nothing more than greet Stiles with a “Mr. Stilinski” and a face full of regret.

Stiles had no other option but to conclude Hale was embarrassed by the previous night’s activity, so he tried to push it from his mind. What had he expected? Derek Hale was the head of a federal field office, the Alpha of one of the largest werewolf packs in North America, quite wealthy, and incredibly good looking. Stiles was a 20-something doctoral student who talked too much and whose very touch made Hale mortal, and therefore, in danger.

During the cocktail hour, Hale tried to make polite conversation, but it was clear to Stiles he was embarrassed and had nothing to say. Stiles finally latched onto another student from the department who he occasionally taught classes with and refused to leave her side.

When dinner finally started, Stiles found himself seated next to an assistant of the visiting researcher. Visiting researchers didn’t often travel with their own assistants, so Stiles was particularly intrigued. Pushing Derek Hale out of his thoughts as well as he could, Stiles tried to make polite conversation.

“Stiles? That’s not a very common sort of name.”

“Well, my real name is Polish, but I don’t share it with anyone. It’s terrible. My mother was Polish. Not an affliction that can be cured, although I suppose she did die.”

Stiles was trying to shock the assistant now, deriving some sick pleasure in watching him squirm. It wasn’t Stiles’s usual M.O., but he was in a particularly vindictive mood. He momentarily felt guilty, but he had never met his mother. He knew her only through her books and through his father’s memory of her.

The assistant – Danny, Stiles learned – laughed nervously. “Didn’t leave a ghost behind?”

“Not enough life.” Stiles responded. This was not strictly true. Effervescent had more than enough life. It was just held in the wrong way – too easily shared and not easily clung to. Impossible to become a supernatural that way. Preternatural tendencies bred true. He was what he was because of his mother’s effervescence.

“Really? That’s kind of my area of study.”

Stiles was only half paying attention to Danny. Hale, it seemed, was seated next to the very lecturer Stiles had sought refuge with earlier. She seemed to be attempting – and failing, Stiles thought with satisfaction – to flirt with Hale.

“The professor has her own area, of course. But I’m interested in measuring the amount of life in a person.”

Stiles suddenly looked at him with interest. “How would you do that?”

“I’m not 100% sure yet. I am working on plans in that area. I think if we could figure out the exact substance of a person’s life, we could determine how much someone had. Then maybe only those with the best chances to become supernatural might try.”

Deciding this subject was one he was interested in, and, once he’d stopped sneaking glances at Derek Hale and actually looked at Danny, realizing that Danny was actually very attractive, Stiles decided to give him his full attention for the rest of the meal. Danny even asked to stop by his office and take Stiles to lunch the following day to continue their discussion.

Derek Hale, on the other side of the room, look angry. It was if thunderclouds were crackling above his head. Stiles did not notice. The prospect of new supernatural and – although Danny may not know it – preternatural research was too interesting.

Stiles left the department’s event still upset with Hale, but at least happy to note he would be distracted the next day by classes and lunch. He was also pleased that he’d managed to hide any anger or hurt he might feel from both Hale and the rest of the guests.

\--

Derek Hale paced his office in anger.

“I don’t understand what he’s playing at.”

Chris Argent, sitting at his own desk in the corner of the room, looked up. Trying to distract Hale, he said, “The Manhattan hive let me know that there’s been another rove appearance. At least they told us this time.”

Hale did not seem to hear him. “He ignored me! Spent all evening talking to some assistant.”

Argent rolled his eyes. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. “To be fair, you did it first.”

“Of course I did. I made the first move. He should have come to me now!”

Silence.

“I kissed him!” Hale roared.

“Yes, I’m aware.” Argent sighed.

“Well, why hasn’t he done anything about it?”

“What? You mean like hit you with a baseball bat? The number of times he’s happened to find a baseball bat handy to beat off attackers is astounding, but I don’t think you’d like to be counted among them.”

Hale looked irritated and confused. “I mean like attempt to talk to me, or even not talk to me and just drag me off somewhere…” Hale trailed off. “But nothing! I’d like it better if he yelled at me some more.”

Argent sighed again and pushed away his work, knowing nothing would get done till this was straightened out.

“Stiles is not going to behave like someone in the pack would. It may be instinct for you, but it sure as hell isn’t for him.”

Hale looked momentarily sheepish. “I’ve handled this entirely wrong, haven’t I?”

“Probably. Despite not being a werewolf, Stiles is every bit an Alpha. You are going to have to, at the very least, apologize. Probably grovel.” He stared at his Alpha straight on. He had no sympathy.

Hale stood up very straight. “I don’t grovel.”

“Well, then, you won’t have Stiles.”

Hale looked mutinous. Argent continued. “You’d best give up now. I’m sure the dewan would prefer it anyway. I don’t he’d appreciate a relationship between an Alpha and a preternatural anyway. Well, you never know. If he were the werewolf in the situation, he may allow it. Stiles _is_ his type.”

Argent knew he was baiting his Alpha. There was a lot of animosity between Hale and the dewan.

Hale growled and sat down at his desk. About a half hour later, Hale finally looked up. “Do I really have to grovel?”

Argent didn’t even glance up. “I believe so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to follow me at my tumblr dedicated solely to original works (which at the moment consists entirely of Teen Wolf fic and Doctor Who fanvids) [here](http://scs12.tumblr.com/) or my multi-fandom/general tumblr [here](http://theycallmethejackal.tumblr.com/).


	6. Chapter 6

Danny arrived at noon the next day. Despite his desire to get Hale off his mind, Stiles’s intentions for the lunch were purely platonic. After they sat down at an outside table of Stiles’s favorite campus deli, Stiles began asking about Danny’s study of supernaturals. Finstock took a seat two tables away. If Danny noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“How did you get interested in studying the measurement of life?” he asked pleasantly.

Danny gazed for a moment at Stiles. He figured that as a fellow student of supernatural studies, he could handle the real reason Danny wanted to measure life. “My brother was tuned into a vampire.”

“Congratulations on a successful transformation!” exclaimed Stiles.

Danny shook his head, still surprised by the reaction. “Here and in some places in the west, it’s a good thing. I’m from the South – Texas, actually – and not everyone feels that way.”

“Immortality is immortality.” Stiles didn’t mean to sound unsympathetic and he knew the South was more conservative in their approach to supernaturals, but he still couldn’t see a successful change as necessarily bad unless done against the person’s will.

“My family thinks him just a pawn of the Devil. What we see as having being able to hold onto life so as not to be consumed by death, they merely see as him selling his soul.”

“Really? They still believe that?”

“They’re all very conservative. He survived the bite, but they disowned him. If we had lived in a smaller town, I think they would have hunted him down. We lived in Dallas, though, which is a little more progressive on supernatural issues. Can’t be seen killing your son, even if he is a vampire.”

Stiles shook his head. The south was getting more progressive about vampires and werewolves every year, but there were still parts where very conservative attitudes toward supernaturals took hold. He wondered what they would think of him there.

“I loved my brother. Nobody else in my family cared for him after that, but I saw him. He was still the same person. So I switched to biology and I’ve been studying it ever since.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles caught a glimpse of trench coat. He was sure it was Argent. He must be tired outside in the sun all day watching Stiles.

“If you are successful, aren’t you worried the knowledge will be misused?”

A large group of people passed by. Although they were dressed as students, Stiles couldn’t help but think he knew some of them, although he wasn’t sure from where – certainly not class. One tall, dark haired boy, surely no younger than 23 or 24, with an armband tattoo of some sort actually paused to look at Danny more thoroughly. His companions whisked him away, but Stiles noticed Argent following him with his eyes until they disappeared.

“Misused? By scientists?”

“Scientists, hives, packs, anyone. Their small numbers keep them protected from public outcry, at least in most places. Letting supernaturals have such advance knowledge could change that.”

Danny nodded. “Yes, I’ve thought about it. My thesis is really on the theoretical, though. The actual practice of measuring life will take me much, much longer.”

Stiles nodded and then decided to steer the conversation to more general topics. They spent another half an hour talking and finishing their lunch.

When Stiles got back to his office, he waited about 5 minutes for Danny to leave and then hurried back out of the building till he found Argent. “You kept a close watch. We were just eating lunch.”

“Good afternoon to you too, Stiles.”

Stiles gave Argent a look. “Are you still watching me? You look terrible. Don’t you need to rest?”

“He couldn’t spare anyone else. The full moon is tomorrow.”

Stiles frowned. “You know Finstock is still around.” He pointed to where Finstock was unsubtly leaning against the building.

Argent gave him a patronizing look.

Stiles rolled his eyes and walked back into the building. When he got back to his office, the student worker/secretary that he shared with 3 others on staff gave him a knowing look. “Is someone here?” She nodded, but refused to say more. He sent Finstock out of the way to the department break room, took a deep breath, and went inside.

Derek Hale whirled around from where he stood, watching the campus out the large window in Stiles’s office. Stiles paused and without a word, turned around and slammed the door shut.

Stiles stood outside his office for a moment, glaring at the student who was trying very hard to keep from giggling. Finstock had come hurrying down the hall at the door slam, but Stiles waived him off. “It’s Agent Hale.” Finstock rolled his eyes. Even he, it seemed, was over the ridiculous game being played between Stiles and Hale. Stiles walked back in his office.

“What do you want?” Stiles asked, without any attempt at greeting.

Hale countered. “Where have you been?”

“Out.”

“With?” Clearly Hale wasn’t going to let this go. Stiles knew Hale would learn from Argent eventually anyway.

“An assistant to a visiting researcher here.”

“That idiot from dinner last night?” Hale looked angry.

Stiles glared, but was secretly pleased. Hale _had_ noticed. “He’s incredibly smart. It’s nice to talk to someone who can carry on a conversation. He has some very interesting theories on metamorphosis.”

“What did you tell him?” Hale suddenly sounded suspicious and his face changed to what Stiles had deemed his ‘BUR face’.

“Nothing. He was just telling me about some of his study of supernaturals. He naturally has no idea people like me exist, so he’s missing quite a bit of information.”

“You look like you enjoyed it.”

“So what if I did? Does it bother you?” Stiles was feeling the annoyance that seemed ever-present when Hale was around creep up.  “Wait a minute. Why do I care if it does? You clearly regret kissing me the other night. You could have just told me it was an impulse reaction and you’ve thought better of it. I deserve that. You may not like me, but we’ve known each other long enough for at least some respect.” Stiles’s anger was losing steam, but he could still his heart beating rapidly in his chest and his cheeks burning.

Now Hale was angry. “Impulse reaction? That’s what you think?”

Stiles threw up his hands. “I have no clue. You started it. And then you barely spoke to me last night. I have no clue what you want from me.” He felt like he was going to start flailing around soon. Stiles was sure he’d grown out of that particular bad habit in college – during his master’s degree, at least.

Derek Hale stood there silently. Argent told him to grovel, but he had a hard enough time apologizing to people. Groveling was not in his nature.

Stiles, no longer angry, felt slightly triumphant. He’d never seen Hale at a loss for words. But he was also confused. “Look, Hale. I know I’m not anyone’s dream, here. I’m 150 pounds of pale skin and caffeine. I want to teach college kids for a living. Any time I touch you, I put you in danger. I won’t be hurt if you’ve thought better of it. Just have enough respect for me to tell me so.”

Hale started toward him, not saying a word. He was certainly good at looming. Stiles wasn’t used to feeling quite so small. Stiles stepped back until he was pushed against the door. Hale moved in briefly and gave him a chaste kiss.

“Stiles, I’m sorry.” Even Stiles could tell how much effort the word ‘sorry’ took. “I don’t care what you do for a living. I like that you’re so passionate about your subject. And I think you look just fine.” Hale looked him up and down for emphasis.

“Then why?”

“Because I’m an idiot. I spend too much time with the pack and too little time with non-supes.” Hale looked sheepish for a moment. It was a look that he felt had graced his features far too often in the past few days, all the fault of Stiles.

Then Hale kissed him again, properly this time. After a moment, Hale reared back. “What the hell is that?”

Stiles, trying to catch his breath, replied. “A bite mark.” He thought he’d sufficiently covered it with his shirt, but it appeared Hale had found it again.

“Who bit you?” Stiles could see Hale’s eyes flashing red with anger and could almost feel it like static in the air.

“You did. Or did you forget that?”

Hale looked embarrassed. “Sorry. Lack of sleep this close to the moon makes me lose some control.”

Stiles, still flush between Hale and the door, didn’t seem to mind.

But then, a timid knock came from the other side.

“Umm, excuse me, Professor Stilinski?” the student worker called out. Stiles sighed, trying to straighten his shirt and hoping his face didn’t give away any of what he and Hale had just been doing. He knew his office was a bad place for things like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! I'm hoping to start updating a little quicker starting soon.
> 
> Feel free to follow me at my tumblr dedicated solely to original works (which at the moment consists entirely of Teen Wolf fic and Doctor Who fanvids) [here](http://scs12.tumblr.com/) or my multi-fandom/general tumblr [here](http://theycallmethejackal.tumblr.com/).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both chapters 6 and 7 were posted today. Don't accidentally skip one!

As Stiles tried to adjust his shirt again to cover the bruise on his neck, Derek looked apologetically. “I am sorry about that.”

“A real apology?” Stiles gasped in mock surprise. “I don’t mind. I wish I could do the same to you.” Any marks on Derek had already started to fade.

Stiles turned to open his office door only to be greeted by Chris Argent and Erica.

Derek glared at his second. “Chris, you look like shit. I told you to go home.” Argent simply went over to his Alpha and whispered in his ear.

Derek looked as if he was getting upset about something. “They did what? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Erica snickered. Stiles glared at her.

Derek hurried out of the office. “Watch him, Chris. I’ll send someone by as soon as I get to the office.”

Stiles forced Argent to sit down. He really did look dead on his feet. He went to the break room to get coffee.

When he got back, Erica and Argent were chatting amicably. Stiles wasn’t sure if they had met before then.

“Argent, can I ask you something about pack protocol?” Argent looked at Stiles uncomfortably.

Argent looked startled. “Is it a secret?” Suddenly Stiles was unsure. He knew pack protocol existed, but sometimes these things were instinct and never discussed openly.

“It depends on the subject, but I will tell you if I can.” Argent sighed deeply. He looked like a parent, constantly cleaning up the mess of their child. This was close to the truth, Stiles thought.

“Well, you know—“ Stiles felt very awkward. Chris Argent was much closer in age, at least appearance wise, to his own father than to himself. He felt like he was seeking out the sex talk from someone. He blundered through. “I think Derek has been hitting on me. But then he acts like he isn’t. I just want to know if this some obscure pack thing or just a Derek Hale thing.”

“Oh, has he gone and fucked things up again?” Stiles had the feeling Argent was trying very hard to keep from laughing. Argent sipped his coffee. “Would you say he made his interest clear the first night?”

“Well, we’ve known each other a few years. Before the other night, I thought he hated me.”

It was Erica’s turned to laugh. Stiles glared at her. “I hadn’t even officially met Hale till 5 minutes ago and the way you talked about him didn’t sound like he hated you,” she said.

Argent nodded in agreement. “You didn’t hear his comments after those encounters. I don’t believe he ever hated you. But, I was referring to more recently.”

Stiles nodded and Argent continued. “Hale was thinking a little more instinctively. He has been thinking of you as another Alpha.”

“He wants to fight me?”

“No,” Argent started to look more uncomfortable. “He, uh, he thinks of you as an Alpha mate.”

Stiles gaped at the federal agent with an open mouth. Erica cackled in laughter, almost dropping her coffee. Argent tried to look anywhere but at Stiles.

“His instincts took over when he refused to admit to himself that he was interested in you, which probably caused some of his loss of control. But then he began acting as he would in a normal pack. Unfortunately, you are not a werewolf and would have no reason to know he was waiting for you to make the next move.” Argent started rushing his explanation, as if hoping to get the conversation over as quickly as possible.

Stiles nodded again and he could feel his face flushing. Luckily they were interrupted by another knock on the door.

Normally, Stiles had no visitors. Most people couldn’t even find the doctoral candidates’ offices on campus, unless they were a student in desperate need. Today, it seemed everyone was in line to talk to him. He was glad he had managed to get some work done that morning before his first class.

A tall, very muscled man walked in with dark skin and closely cropped hair. Argent made introductions. “Stiles, Erica, this is Vernon Boyd. He’s one of the pack clavigers.”

“Just call me Boyd,” he said to Stiles and Erica. Turning to Argent, he continued, “Hale told me to send you home immediately. I can see why. You look terrible.”

Argent nodded and stood leave.

Erica had noticed none of this, enraptured by Stiles’s new bodyguard.

\--

Stiles was awakened around 2am by a loud noise. He crept over to his bedroom window in only boxers and a tshirt to see what was going on.

With the full moon only a night away, it was easy to see into the alley. It looked as if there was a fight going on below. It was silent. The noise that woke Stiles was apparently caused by overturned trash cans.

Despite the ferocity of the battle, nobody seemed to be falling. Stiles had seen enough fights to know that some of the blows should have knocked their victims down. Instead, they remained unfazed. Stiles wondered if his nighttime bodyguard might not be a vampire.

One man broke free and looked up. Stiles suddenly knew this was no vampire. The face was blank and waxy. On its forehead were the letters JHVH. The creature ran towards Stiles and despite the three stories, he did not feel safe.

Another man broke away from the fight and sprinted after the creature. Stiles realized he was correct in assuming there was at least one vampire in the fight, as it as he who ran for the creature quicker than any human.

The creature was halfway up the wall now and for the first time in his many recent attacks, Stiles was truly scared. I do not want to die, Stiles thought. I want to see my dad again. And I haven’t had a chance to yell at Derek yet.

Stiles made to back away from the window just as the vampire reached the creature. He grabbed the creature’s head and yanked it around hard. They both fell off the side of Stiles’s building. Neither screamed nor spoke. The creature rolled off the vampire and once again made towards Stiles’s building. The vampire managed to grab the creature’s legs and instead of fighting back, the creature continued to make jerking motions towards Stiles.

Suddenly a noise echoed around the alley. Finstock must have called the police. Stiles saw a mixed group of police and a few BUR agents round the corner. The rest of the fighters fled.

The vampire would not let go of the creature, though. The creature finally grabbed the vampire by both wrists and crushed them. Stiles could hear the crunch of bone from where he stood. The creature, instead of making towards Stiles again, though, barreled through the police and ran. The vampire, covered in blood, looked towards Stiles in grim satisfaction. Stiles knew the vampire would heal, but he was still shaken.

Stiles quietly murmured, “Thank you,” knowing the vampire would hear.

\--

The next morning when Stiles awoke, he found his father sitting in the living room. Erica, who must not have heard anything the night before, was quickly being brought up to speed by his father. Stiles supposed it would be hard to keep the fight a secret considering the police were called, not to mention it was probably Finstock who did the calling.

Stiles walked into the kitchen to get coffee before dealing with his father only to find Derek there, holding a chicken drumstick Erica had leftover in the fridge and looking guilty. He swallowed quickly and put up a hand when Stiles grew a wicked grin.

“Not right now. Business first.”

Stiles might have been put out if it weren’t for the _first_.

Derek continued. “I didn’t realize your father would be here or I would have come later. But this is important. Will they get nosy if we talk in here for a moment?”

Stiles shook his head. “No. I think dad is catching Erica up on what happened here last night. She can sleep through anything.”

Derek nodded. “Well, yesterday when I – err – was visiting, someone broke into the FBI office. The injured three agents – 2 BUR and another FBI agent that was in the division office for something else – but they stole a lot of files. Mostly rove and omega files.” Derek paused. “And your files.”

“How?”

“Argent went back after I told him to go home. Apparently everyone was asleep.”

“Chloroform?”

Derek nodded. “You can see that were even more concerned, right?  Before we could assume they thought you were a non-supe that just interfered a lot or maybe they were after you because of your father. Now they know who and what you are.”

“You’re concerned, which I appreciate, but your guards are great. You know what happened last night?”

Derek nodded.

“I know you’ll hate this, but I’m going to spend tonight with Laura. I’m sure your guards can come with. Plus, her house is very safe. They won’t get me tonight, even if it is the full moon.”

Derek grunted. “Fine.”

“I’m not interested in her. And she doesn’t like me like that, either, you know.”

“Why would she be?” Derek said. “You are preternatural, effervescent.”

Stiles winced, but figured now was a good of time as any. “But you are? Interested?”

Derek was quiet for so long Stiles thought they were going to end up not speaking again.

“I spent a lot of time trying not to like you,” Derek admitted finally.

“Well, I’ll make it easy. _I_ don’t like _you_ when you say crap like that!” Stiles never could understand how he could go from relatively calm to completely agitated in mere seconds around Derek Hale. As he made to stalk out of the room, though, Derek grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close.

“It is very difficult to imagine not liking you—“ Derek turned him around and pushed him against the counter. “—for a very long time.”

Stiles could feel him melting into the embrace. “What do you – or your pack protocol – want me to say now?”

That you want me, though Derek. You and me, for a very long time. Derek was forced to deal with his emotions very rarely. But there it was, like a stone in the pit of his stomach. The feeling he’d been trying not to acknowledge.

Argent had known. He hadn’t mentioned it outright, but he had known. How many Alphas, Derek wondered, had Argent watched fall in love?

Mine, thought Derek, giving Stiles a predatory look. “Mine,” he said out loud, before shoving a knee between Stiles’s legs, tilting his head back and kissing him.

Their conversation – argument, at least for most of it, if Stiles was being honest – was apparently a little too loud. Just then, both Erica and Stiles’s father walked into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned previously, updates will be a little more frequent. Please be sure not to miss any chapters!
> 
> Feel free to follow me at my tumblr dedicated solely to original works (which at the moment consists entirely of Teen Wolf fic and Doctor Who fanvids) [here](http://scs12.tumblr.com/) or my multi-fandom/general tumblr [here](http://theycallmethejackal.tumblr.com/).


	8. Chapter 8

Derek quickly made excuses to leave, citing both work and the full moon. Erica kept bursting out in laughter until Stiles glared and reminded her she had class in an hour and might want to take a shower and change out of the clothes she wore to bed. She went back into her room, but Stiles could still hear her laugh pealing out from the back of the apartment.

Stiles turned to his father, who both looked unsurprised to have found his son in a compromising position with the area’s Alpha werewolf, but also like he’d very much like to erase the memory from his brain.

“Stiles, we need to talk.”

“Dad, this—“ he gestured around the kitchen, although he wasn’t sure exactly what he was gesturing at. “This is very new. Don’t worry. I don’t want to become a werewolf or anything. Not even a claviger. I promise.”

Stiles’s father looked even more horrified. “That hadn’t actually crossed my mind, but now I wish you hadn’t put the thought there.”

John Stilinski sighed, suddenly looking very tired and sat down at the kitchen table. “Stiles, I really came over here to talk about what’s been going in your life. I know you think you’re hiding it well, but you’ve been attacked at least once that I’ve been informed of and twice that I’m sure you’ve lied about in just the past week. What are you caught up in, son?”

Stiles really thought this might be a conversation better had over a bottle of whiskey, but 7 in the morning was not a good time for that. He momentarily debated with himself, but decided to finally tell a non-supe about his preternatural state, the first he’d told.

“Dad, this is going to sound odd to hear, but I’m not exactly a non-supe.” The elder Stilinski looked at Stiles blankly. “I’m not supernatural either, exactly. Mom was the same way. It’s called preternatural, or sometimes effervescent. You know how supernaturals have so much life that they are able to cling to a little bit so they don’t truly die?”

Commissioner Stilinski nodded for him to continue.

“Well, from what I and other researchers have been able to understand, I have too much life too, but in a different way. I can actually share that life with a supernatural so they become truly alive – truly human – when I touch them.”

His father looked shocked, but after a moment composed himself and switched into police mode. “You think this is why you’ve been attacked all week?”

Stiles nodded. “Derek said my files at BUR were stolen along with some other things yesterday. Then they came to my apartment last night. It seems likely.”

“You have BUR files?” This evidently was even more surprising than Stiles being a preternatural. He worked with BUR often enough that it might have been a shock nobody had mentioned his own son had a file.

“I technically fall under their jurisdiction. Didn’t you wonder why I always seemed to run into Derek?”

He shook his head at Stiles, this statement apparently causing him a little amusement. “No, I assumed you both secretly had a thing for each other and didn’t want to bring it up.”

Stiles’s cheeks flushed. “Not funny, dad. This is very, _very_ new. Nothing has been going on. I would have told you.”

Stiles and his father had always had a close relationship. Stiles’s preternatural state had been the only secret Stiles had really ever kept from him in his life. He was actually slightly relieved to not have to keep it secret any longer.

“So you can’t be a werewolf then?”

“No. The second any supernatural touches me, they turn human. You should see what I do to ghosts.”

Ghosts were not Stiles’s favorite supernatural to deal with. As he wasn’t employed by any governmental agency, he’d never actually had to exorcise one. He’d read about it, though. The few ghosts he’d met had been very wary of him.

“And Hale has protection on you now?”

Stiles nodded. “Yes. Tonight I’m going to Laura’s, since it’s the full moon. The vampires Hale sent last night were very helpful, though. I’m sure your cops noticed.”

The elder Stilinski sighed. “It looks like Hale is taking care of you. But don’t keep things like this from me again. And I want Finstock with you at all times.”

Stiles heard Erica’s shower shut off and they changed their conversation to something a little more mundane.

\--

By the time Stiles was ready to go to Laura’s that evening, it was dark outside. It was twilight – just enough time to get werewolves locked up before the moon appeared and turned them into beasts.

Finstock gave Stiles a long suffering sight as he followed him to a car. Finstock tended to be under the impression that Stiles was always meddling, but the feeling was particularly strong when visiting a powerful rove vampire on a full moon. Derek had BUR bring a car around for the night, rather than force him to call a cab or take the subway, so at least they knew the driver was safe.

The car wound slowly through traffic. New York City was bad on the best of nights. On the full moon, when there were parties abound, particularly by vampires who did not have werewolves to deal with, it was nearly impossible.

The elegant vampire was waiting for Stiles when he pulled in front of Laura’s residence. “Stiles, dearest, what a way to spend the full moon. Who could possibly wish for better company this night?”

Stiles smiled. He knew she’d rather be anywhere than at home on the full moon when so much tended to go on around town, but he appreciated the sacrifice.

Stiles hugged her as he approached – she accepted nothing less in greeting. “I have tons to tell you.”

Her eyes lit up. The only thing that could truly keep her home on the full moon was information and she knew Stiles would have some.

She was dressed in a sequin covered pink dress and silvery heels. Her arms and neck were covered with a fur shawl. Stiles wasn’t sure if she had plans after he left, if she always dressed like this, or if Laura considered Stiles’s visit an important one worth dressing up for. He felt shabby in his dark jeans and sweater by comparison.

Laura looked over her shoulder as Stiles was led to the door. “You know you’re bodyguards will have to stay outside, at least the BUR ones. No vampires are allowed in my domain. It is more than law, it is instinct.”

Stiles rarely saw such a serious expression on the socialite’s face and he nodded in acquiescence. Finstock, as he was not a vampire, followed Stiles through the door.

Stiles did not quite understand what Laura was saying, but the BUR bodyguards apparently did, as they had already taken up positions around the perimeter of the residence. Laura’s eyes briefly glowed, a spark of possession.

Derek had implied to Stiles before that werewolves were not as territorial, but then they could travel a good deal easier than vampires could. He wondered what they did to mark territory, though. Perhaps scent, as it seemed to be particularly important much of the time. The idea of Derek cocking a leg to mark his pack’s territory almost had Stiles laughing aloud and he worked hard to school his features into something a little less comical.

Laura led Stiles into a sitting room. A young man with tanned skin and dark eyes appeared at her side with a tray of glasses and a decanter of amber liquid. Stiles was sure he’d seen him before.

“Oh, thank you Scott. So thoughtful.” Scott winked and left. He displayed impressive musculature for all his grace. Laura watched him walk away appreciatively. “I should not have favorites, of course, but Scotty is so thoughtful,” she said gesturing to the drinks.

Stiles took a sip, realizing it was a very expensive bourbon. He made an appreciative noise. Laura smiled. “I’m glad you like it. I know you like whiskey and I got this recently. I’ve always wanted to go to the Kentucky Derby – the hats alone would be worth it – but I cannot travel that far. At least I can buy good liquor and try out the drinks.” She straightened up. “Now, what bring you here tonight?”

Stiles tried not to answer directly. A noise arose from outside the room, subsided, and then Stiles heard loud laughter. Laura smiled indulgently. “My little drones. Darlings.”

Whatever was occurring, no drone came into the room, nor did Finstock, so Stiles assumed it was nothing.

“Well, tell me all about your visit to the hive!” Laura said, sitting back.

So Stiles did, leaving no detail out, at least of his time in the actual hive house.

Suddenly there came a timid knock on the door.

“Come in!” Laura sang out. The door opened to reveal a large group of young people, mostly men, all following the one Laura had earlier referred to as Scott. All of them were good looking, charming, and possibly a little tipsy. “We are going out for the full moon,” Scott announced. Laura nodded. “The usual instructions, dears.”

The group nodded. There were all dressed well – much better than Stiles tended to when he went out. Stiles reasoned that no person of Laura’s household would ever be less than fashionable and impeccable. Stiles was impressed. They would fit in and could blend in anywhere.

Laura closed the door, looking slightly forlorn.

Stiles settled a hand on her arm. “They will be alright.”

“I suspect that will depend on what they find out and whether anyone thinks they have found out anything important.” She sounded very maternal.

“So far, no drones have gone missing.” Stiles was thinking of the drone at the Manhattan hive, Allison, who remained when her rove master disappeared.

“Is that the official word? Or information from the source itself?” said Laura, patting Stiles’s hand appreciatively.

“I haven’t spoken much to Derek.”

“Derek?” Laura waggled her eyebrows in a way that made Stiles hope she and Erica never met. “He’s Derek now, is he? And I know he’s seen you multiple times in the past few days. Why haven’t you spoken?”

Stiles could feel himself blushing.

“Finally showed his hand, did he?” She cackled. Stiles _really_ didn’t want Laura and Erica to meet. “What will the dewan say? Preternatural and supernatural? That’s not happened in my lifetime! The hives will be outraged. So will the potentate.” Laura started to look like her normal animated self. Gossip tended to do that to her, Stiles supposed.

Another noise arose outside the room. So caught up in their banter, neither Stiles nor Laura realized the house was supposed to be empty. The door to the room burst open.

“Here!” said the man at the entrance. “She’s got a male with her!”

“Well, bring him with her!” said a man from the hallway. Some kind of complex Latin phrases were yelled back and forth. Stiles had very limited training in the subject, but Lara seemed to understand what was said.

“No. That’s impossible!” she whispered.

The stranger in the doorway vanished only to be replaced by the man with the wax face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned previously, updates will be a little more frequent. Please be sure not to miss any chapters!
> 
> Feel free to follow me at my tumblr dedicated solely to original works (which at the moment consists entirely of Teen Wolf fic and Doctor Who fanvids) [here](http://scs12.tumblr.com/) or my multi-fandom/general tumblr [here](http://theycallmethejackal.tumblr.com/).


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments!
> 
> Chapters 8 and 9 were posted today. Please don't skip anything!

The wax faced man held a glass bottle and advanced towards Stiles and Laura, spilling the bottle’s contents carefully around the room.

Invisible fumes rose from the liquid. Stiles held his breath and covered his mouth and nose with his shirt sleeve, hoping to guard against some of them. To his right, he heard a thud as Laura collapsed to the floor. It seemed vampires were more quickly affected by chloroform than preternaturals.

Stiles felt light-headed and his lungs were screaming for oxygen. He broke for the door, trying to reach fresh air.

The waxy man was apparently unaffected by the fumes and he shifted to prevent him from leaving. Stiles frantically looked around for something to defend himself with. He spotted baseball bat against the wall, surely left out by one of Laura’s drones. He took a half second to wonder what cosmic joke it was that led him to always find baseball bats in his time of need.

He swung at the man’s head. It made satisfying contact with the man’s skull, but did not seem to have any effect.

Stiles pulled his arm away from protecting his face and tried swinging with two hands. He hit the wax faced man’s side, around where the ribs would be. The man did not even flinch.

Stiles could not help breathing at this point. He could feel himself losing consciousness, but tried to hit the wax faced man one last time. He knew he was in trouble anyway, but wanted the satisfaction of doing some damage. None occurred.

As he fell forward, Stiles grabbed on to the man. His skin felt hard and cold. Nothing happened to him on contact. Nothing in the skin regained life or changed at all. This was not a creature Stiles could give life to. This, Stiles realized, was the real monster.

\--

Derek Hale arrived home just in time. His car roared up the long drive to Newark Castle just as the sun set.

Newark Castle stood about 20 minutes out of Newark in the New Jersey Meadowlands. It was only 30 minutes by car to Manhattan, allowing the pack access to cities, but also the room to run. Newark Castle was not a castle in the strictest sense, but instead a large manor house with multiple stories. Its most important feature, so far as its occupants were concerned, was its very large and secure dungeon. The original owner and designer was said to have had some interesting proclivities, but whatever the cause, the dungeons were extensive.

Derek jumped out of his car, already feeling the tingle the full moon brought on. The urge to hunt, maim, and kill was approaching with the moon.

His clavigers were waiting for him in a large group at the door.

“Boyd, report.” Boyd was the default head of the pack clavigers.

Boyd approached from behind the group. “All the pack is accounted for and locked up except for you, sir. Your cell is clean and waiting. You should get down there quickly.”

Derek nodded and followed the large man – although not quite as large as Derek – down the hall.

The clavigers surrounded him and hustled him down the stone staircase that led to the dungeon. Some, Derek noticed with relief, were armored and armed. All wore silver knives, sheathed at their wastes.

The Newark Castle dungeon was full of snarling, slathering occupants. The youngest of Derek’s pack could not resist change for several nights leading up to the full moon, let alone the moon itself. They had been in residence for days. The rest were locked in as soon as the sun went down. Only Derek was strong enough to be outside of confinement so late and he was even feeling the strain.

Chris Argent was sitting on a small stool in the corner of his cell, wearing nothing and reading the evening paper. He was struggling to slow the change. Most simply let themselves go, but Argent always tested himself.

Argent gave him a reproachful look. Derek suspected Argent would have said something about Stiles, except his jaw was already starting to change.

Derek was locked in his cell not a moment too soon. As soon as the door was bolted, the moon rose over the horizon. Derek felt his bones breaking and reforming. As he was changing, Derek noticed a smell wafting through the vents.

When Derek raised his head to howl, it was not mindless, like so many of his pack. He finally realized what the smell coming from the vents was, but it was too late to warn anyone. Derek uselessly crashed against his cell as chloroform filled the air.

\--

Stiles woke gagged and bound in a familiar looking room, but was still groggy from the chloroform and could not place it. He could see papers next to him bearing a seal and the phrase PROTEGO VITAE. It took him a moment to remember his few semesters of Latin in college to recognize this meant ‘to protect life’.

I don’t buy it, he thought. I _do not_ feel protected.

The crest was some sort of snake entwined on itself. It was a little too far away for Stiles to see clearly.

Finally Stiles was alert enough to realize he was on campus. Not just that, he was in his own department’s building. He was strangely unsurprised. Of course, now it made sense. It was, after all, at a student party that he killed the first vampire. And with all the chloroform, although it did not necessarily require a scientist, it would be much easier for them to get ahold of.

Had Derek figured it out? he wondered. Did he suspect just the researcher here, whoever he was, or was the entire department or even university implicated? Stiles doubted even Derek’s suspicious nature would extend that far.

He could turn his head just enough to see Laura’s crumpled form, still unconscious.

Suddenly a woman walked in, Stiles’s captors following behind. “Excellent work, gentlemen! Laura Hale, according to the BUR records, is one of the oldest vampires in New York. Next to a queen, her blood should be the most potent we have analyzed. We’re already in the middle of a test with another at the moment, so put her in storage.” She paused. “What is this?”

There was something familiar about the woman’s voice, but Stiles couldn’t move his head enough to get a good look at her. “Oh! Is this the one you keep saying shows up? First visiting the Manhattan hive and now in the presence of specimen Hale? How _does_ he fit in?”

Finally Stiles realized where he had heard this voice before. This was the department’s new visiting researcher. No wonder he was being held at the university. It didn’t seem that she had any idea who he was. Perks of being the department’s lowest pay grade, he supposed.

When nobody answer her, the woman continued. “Well, put him into storage as well. If we cannot find anything out about how he fits in, we will have to force it out of him.”

Stiles was slightly confused. Even if the researcher didn’t remember who he was, surely these men should know who, or more precisely, what he was. Clearly they were the ones that had been attacking him. They had sent the wax faced man to his house only the night before, unless there existed two in the city. Stiles shuddered at the thought. It was if they were thinking of him as two different people, the Stiles Stilinski who was a preternatural and the boy who kept hanging around vampires.

Then he realized BUR did not keep pictures on file, for safety reasons. His record contained notes, addresses, and other information, but not an actual picture. These men did not know who he was, because they did not have a picture. Except the wax faced man, who had seen Stiles through his bedroom window the night before. Stiles wondered why he had not revealed this secret yet.

“And where is my darling?” he heard the woman ask as the men carried him and Laura out of the room. His chemical addled brain struggled to remember her name, although he had seen her introduced to the department only days before. “How did he behave on this outing? Good? Of course he did, my precious baby.” The woman was cooing over something as if it were a small child.

Stiles and Laura were thrown in a windowless room and Stiles could hear a lock click behind him. He thought it might be a closet. As he lay on the hard ground, he noticed that Laura’s eyes were open. Through some minor struggling, they were able to remove the gags from each other’s mouths, but their hands and feet were bound in steel, beyond even Laura’s ability to break.

Laura tried to apologize – in between complaining about her ruined fur shawl – but Stiles hushed her. “It’s not your fault. If they knew my name, they would have been after me too.”

“Well, then we will just have to keep that very hush-hush.”

“It’s not like you use it anyway,” Stiles retorted. He could count on one hand the number of times Laura had actually called him Stiles. “We may not need to try very hard. The wax faced man who attacked us saw me both at my home and at your house. He probably figured it out and will tell them.”

“Cannot be done,” Laura said confidently.

“Why?” Stiles was far less confident.

“The wax faced man, as you say, cannot tell anyone anything. He is a sort of animated creature of science and blood. Based off old myths of golems, I think. I never really paid all that much attention to talk of it. I assume they weren’t real. Terribly sorry about that.”

Stiles shrugged. “What else do you think they’re doing here?”

“I’m surprised you do not know more. Aren’t we at your university?” Stiles glared. She continued. “I’m sure it’s some kind of experimentation on vampires, maybe a kind of forced metamorphosis? That would at least explain why the new roves have no idea about vampire custom.”

Stiles nodded. “They’ve been abducting omegas too. Maybe they are trying both sides.”

“Yes,” Laura nodded. “That would make sense.” She looked somber. “I know that I do not have a good chance to survive this. But if I do, I have a request.”

Anytime Laura was serious, Stiles paid attention, as it was so rare. He nodded at her to continue.

“It has been a very long time since I have seen the sun. Do you think you might wake me early one evening so that I might see it set?”

Stiles was taken aback. Such a request would require complete trust. He was not aware the vampire trusted anyone, much less him, that much.

Just then, one of the men came back, dragging Laura out.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” said Stiles quietly, hoping he would be able to fulfill it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to follow me at my tumblr dedicated solely to original works (which at the moment consists entirely of Teen Wolf fic and Doctor Who fanvids) [here](http://scs12.tumblr.com/) or my multi-fandom/general tumblr [here](http://theycallmethejackal.tumblr.com/).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last few chapters should be up today and tomorrow, so be on the lookout!

Stiles lay in the small room for ages. He was beginning to think he’d been forgotten. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to think about anything but Derek, his current predicament, or Laura’s safety. Which meant he could do nothing but reflect on the department’s current softball record. As they were terrible, this was a worse torture than any his captors could devise.

Eventually he was saved from his own masochistic meditations by the sound of two voices in the corridor outside his room. Both seemed vaguely familiar. Stiles could only hear the tail end of their conversation.

“What is in the last closet?” A male voice asked.

The woman’s voice answered. “It did house Laura Hale, one of the oldest vampires in the city. Quite a coup. But she is already on the exsanguination table, so we have our mystery guest at the moment.”

“A mystery?” The male sounded intrigued.

“A young man who keeps turning up during our investigations. Would you be interested in meeting him?”

The male assented. Stiles was having a difficult time placing the voice, but there was something in the accent – a slow drawl – that he recognized. Fortunately (or more unfortunately), he did not have to live in confusion much longer.

“Stiles?”

Stiles recoiled from the bright light after sitting in the dark for so long. After his eyes adjusted, he was finally able to see his visitors.

One was the woman from earlier – the visiting researcher. In his time alone Stiles had finally remembered her name – Jennifer Blake. He was disappointed that his enemy hadn’t a more extraordinary or menacing name, but after hours in the dark, he was probably slightly delirious.

The man was trim and tan with a shocked expression on a face that normally housed a good-natured smile. Stiles was quite familiar with him.

“Hello, Danny. So glad you could join us.” Stiles was nothing if not polite. Well, when it suited his sarcastic nature, at least.

The assistant, with a cry of surprise, came to help Stiles into a sitting position. He did look genuinely shocked to see him there. Stiles was glad to note that Danny didn’t seem to have any intentional part in his abduction.

“You know who this is?” Blake asked her assistant.

“Of course. Stiles Stilinski. He works here.” Danny looked pretty angry. Stiles wished he could have shut him up before he announced his name, though.

“Stilinski? Why does that name sound familiar?” She looked around thoughtfully. Stiles hoped she was just remembering him as a staff member. No such luck. “Of course – the FBI records. That explains everything – his involvement with BUR, visiting the hive, and even his association with Laura Hale. Do you know what he his?”

“Aside from tied up?” Danny was growing angrier. Stiles would have been touched if he weren’t still manacled on the floor of a closet at his own workplace. “We don’t abduct humans.”

“Yes, well, he’s not exactly human, is he?” Blake looked at Stiles with a mad gleam in her eye. Stiles was going to have a serious talk with the department heads about background checks on visiting researchers. Danny merely looked confused and angry. “He’s a preternatural. The supernatural all have their myths. The werewolves had their curse breakers, the vampires their sparks, and the ghosts their exorcists, but we never thought they were real. They are apparently very uncommon. Mr. Stilinski is very rare, indeed.”

“A what?”

Blake grinned. “A preternatural! There are so many things to study!”

“You stole the paperwork from BUR,” Stiles said.

Blake shook her head. “No, no, dear. We secured important document to prevent _beasts_ ,” Stiles did not like the way she spat out the word, “from identifying themselves as normal. They may look it and act it on occasion, but don’t turn your back for a second. They are not human.”

“He’s one of them?” Danny hurried away from Stiles’s side. Stiles was starting to wonder how much of his brother he had truly accepted.

“No, Daniel! Quite the opposite. He is the antidote to the supernatural. The opportunities for study are endless.” If possible, the mad gleam in her eye was growing brighter. Stiles was going to file _so many_ complaints with the department over this.

Blake and Danny moved outside the room again to have a whispered conversation.

Stiles heard Blake say, “It couldn’t hurt. If he is already a scholar in the area, he may understand the merits of our work. It would be novel to engage with a willing participant.”

Suddenly Stiles was being gently lifted out of the closet. He was given the chance to use a restroom and to clean the grime from his face. While inside he gently tried to break off a piece of glass and hid it in his pocket.

He was escorted toward an office – not one he’d been in before. He supposed it was the one Blake had been given upon arrival. He sat down at a small table and was given a cup of coffee, although he did not sip any of it. Blake sat across from him.

“Let me get straight to the point,” his jailer began. Stiles nodded at Blake to continue. “We would like to study you. It would be much easier with your cooperation.”

“What exactly do you hope to accomplish?”

“Our goal, of course. To protect the living. If we could figure out how you make the supernatural alive again, we might figure out how to do so permanently. The supernatural are a threat.” Blake’s speech had the tone of one oft spoken, but there was a passion behind it that Stiles believed was genuine. She might be his first anti-supernatural zealot. “They are predators. They permeate our government and our society, but they only care for their own agendas. We must protect our country and the people _alive_ in it.”

Stiles was confused. “Why are you creating more of them?”

“Know thy enemy, Mr. Stilinski.”

\--

Blake led Stiles through a number of private labs. He wondered how she managed to keep an entire kidnapping operation secret from the rest of the department faculty. He hoped those he’d worked with and studied under weren’t also behind it.

Stiles heard wheezing gasps and clunks through some of the doors, but never saw any machines in action. He also heard screams.

“You’re crazy.”

“I take it you won’t help us on your own?” Blake looked disappointed.

“Why does it matter? It doesn’t look like you care whether I do or not.” Stiles retorted, wincing every time a scream pierced the air.

“It would be much easier if you were a willing participant.”

“Sorry,” Stiles spat out. “What are you going to do to me anyway?”

“We need to verify the extent of your abilities.”

Stiles shrugged. “Bring me a vampire. It only takes a touch.”

“Really?” Blake looked impressed. “A vampire may be later. It is, after all, a full moon. We have just received a delivery of werewolves. I would love to see if you could counteract _that_.”

Danny looked alarmed. “If his abilities are false or exaggerated, he could die.”

“Well, that would be part of the test.” Blake grinned manically. “How long does it usually take to neutralize the supernatural?”

Stiles lied immediately. “Generally around an hour.”

“Bring him.” Blake ordered two men, Stiles’s abductors from earlier in the evening grabbed him.

Stiles was once against dragged to confinement. This time he was taken to an area he recognized, although he had not been to that specific room. Every floor of the research labs had light-proof vaults for storing specimens, whether they be cadavers or a vampire rove who hadn’t managed to leave the university before daylight. They were heavy duty, to keep potential thieves out. They could even keep werewolves out. Or in, as seemed to be the case now. Stiles heard crashes coming as bodies slammed up against doors.

“Which room is he in?” Blake asked a man standing guard in the hallway.

The man pointed. “Number 3.”

Blake nodded. “He should be the strongest and the hardest to change back. Toss Mr. Stilinski in. I’ll be back in an hour.” Blake grinned gleefully.

Stiles, trying not to have an anxiety attack, to not show weakness, started composing complaints to the university in his head. He wondered if he could sue the board of the university for being idiots. How did a sociopath get past them?

“He’ll never survive! Not if it takes an hour!” Stiles could hear Danny protesting.

Even Stiles was worried. He had never changed an angry werewolf before, much less on the full moon. They could probably manage to get at least one good bite in before he touched him.

He was suddenly thrust into the vault with no warning. He heard the lock bolt behind him and peered into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to follow me at my tumblr dedicated solely to original works (which at the moment consists entirely of Teen Wolf fic and Doctor Who fanvids) [here](http://scs12.tumblr.com/) or my multi-fandom/general tumblr [here](http://theycallmethejackal.tumblr.com/).


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 10 and 11 were posted today. Don't miss out!
> 
> The final chapter and epilogue should be up tomorrow, as well as the beginning of a sequel!

The werewolf charged.

Stiles, acting on pure instinct, threw himself to the side. He could not even see the werewolf clearly, his eyes not having had a chance to adjust to the dark. It was nothing but a black bur in the darkness.

The wolf hit the closed door hard and crumpled to the floor. In a flash, it rose back to its feet and launched itself at Stiles once more.

There was no chance for Stiles to move. He knew the first dodge had been nothing but pure luck.

Before the wolf struck, though, it twisted himself in midair. He could have killed Stiles easily that time, he was sure.

The beast circled Stiles, sniffing the air. He whined and backed away, clearly in distress. After a moment, though, it became clear that whatever was initially holding the wolf back was overcome by its desire to attack.

Stiles eyes had adjusted again and he tried desperately to keep his wits about him. Just as the wolf leapt, Stiles stepped to the side and slammed into the wolf’s ribs, sending them both crashing into the wall. He then wrapped both arms and legs around the wolf, trying to touch as much of the wolf’s body as he could with his own.

Stiles felt the wolf’s fur being to disappear and the man’s bones re-form under his fingers. The sound and feel of the change was gruesome, but Stiles would not let go. Eventually, he held only warm human skin and solid muscle.

Stiles took a deep breath and smelled grass and dirt and fresh air. He had no doubt who he held. He then realized Derek was completely naked. Derek did not seem particularly bothered by this, but Stiles had his eyes screwed shut. Well, he might have peeked once. But he didn’t think it fair for Derek to be forced to be both naked _and_ gaped at by Stiles while locked in a research lab of a university. (For the record, no matter how well tailored the pants, they did not do Derek’s ass justice. Stiles had to remember to tell Erica.)

But, Stiles reasoned, at least he isn’t trying to kill me anymore.

Stiles could feel a rumble of laughter in Derek’s chest. “Stiles, you can open your eyes. If we’re going to get out of wherever we are, you’re going to need all of your senses.”

Stiles, seeing the logic in the statement, opened his eyes, hoping it was dark enough that Derek couldn’t see the flush that must be covering his entire face.

Derek continued. “Where are we, exactly?”

“We’re in one of the university research labs. It’s the visiting researcher that’s behind all the supernatural disappearances. You and your pack have become one of those, now.” Derek growled at this statement. Stiles continued. “They have Laura hooked up to something called an exsanguination machine and I heard these screams. I think it was her. Derek, I think they may be torturing her to death.”

Stiles always assumed if he were ever in a truly dangerous situation, he might cry or have a panic attack. At this moment, he mostly felt angry. Laura was one of his closest friends. One of the very few people who knew about his effervescence, but did not treat him differently for it. He refused to lose that.

Derek, at hearing Laura had been captured, became even angrier. Stiles wondered, not for the first time, if there was something more that connected the Alpha and rove socialite than a shared last name. He paused to take a breath.

“How did you end up in here with me?”

“I was put in this particular cell, because they wanted to check to see if I was really preternatural. I ended up kidnapped, because they chloroformed Laura’s entire house trying to capture her when I visited earlier.”

Derek had begun to rub Stiles’s back in a comforting manner. This pushed Stiles closer to Derek. As he was already straddling him, this proved to be a bad idea. They had no time for things like _that_.

“Also, they have a kind of animated golem creature.” Stiles was trying to keep focused on the task at hand.

“Yes, an automaton they’re called,” grunted Derek.

“You knew what it was and didn’t tell me?” said Stiles indignantly.

“Hardly see how it matters to you. You would have gotten in the way anyway.”

Stiles could hardly argue with this. Derek had taken to nuzzling Stiles’s neck in between phrases, making it even harder to stay annoyed.

Finally Stiles punched him. “Derek, we have about an hour of time. Or we did when they threw me in here. I’m not sure how much time we have left. Then they are coming back and we are in danger. We need to think of something. I know the full moon makes you lose control, but I need you to get it back.”

“An hour, how did you manage?”

“My BUR file doesn’t say how long it takes my ability to work. I told them it takes an hour.” Stiles grinned.

“And they threw you in here anyway?” Derek roared and jumped up, Stiles barely holding on to an arm.

“Derek!”

Derek finally calmed to a point and looked at Stiles.

“We need to make a plan,” Stiles said. He produced the shard of glass he’d stolen earlier. Derek looked impressed despite himself.

“You’re always resourceful. I have to say. I’m surprised you didn’t find a baseball bat,” Derek said.

Stiles glared. “I actually had one earlier at Laura’s. One of her drones left it out.”

Derek laughed. Stiles decided it was a look he wanted to see more on Derek’s face – if they got out of here alive.

Suddenly serious, Stiles grabbed the back of Derek’s head and brought him in for a kiss. “We have to get out of here. We have to get Laura out of here and your pack.” Derek nodded.

Standing in the doorway, a backlit figure started slowly clapping.

Lightning-fast, Derek shifted Stiles around so Derek was between Stiles and the intruder. Derek held the shard of mirror out in front of him like a knife, even as the glass cut into his hand, which was unable to heal with Stiles touching him.

“Well, Mr. Stilinski, I never thought to see a werewolf Alpha in human form on a full moon. You do good work,” said Blake from the door to the vault.

Seeing the knife, Blake stayed a good distance out of Derek’s reach. Just then the wax faced man – the automaton – entered the room. It faked towards the right and then lunged left, grabbing Stiles. Stiles tried to fight back, but even when he landed a solid kick, the automaton did not flinch. Derek had lunged to the right, trying to strike the automaton with the glass and the lunge combined with Stiles’s fighting effort brought them out of contact. Derek threw the glass at the automaton anyway, embedding it in the creature’s back.

Derek immediately changed back into a werewolf as the automaton drug Stiles from the room. Although Blake had a group of people with her, it appeared they expected it to take just as long for Derek to change back as they believed it had taken him to change to human. Stiles hoped it would give him an advantage.

As Stiles was drug down the hall, he saw a disgusting black liquid dripping from the automaton. He briefly wondered why Derek had tried to injure the creature until he figured out Derek had been trying to create a trail. Realizing that there was not enough of the liquid, Stiles grabbed the glass and cut his own arm. His own blood, healthy and bright red, welled fast and dripped down the floor. The automaton did not notice.

Stiles, the automaton, and Blake, who the creature was following, entered another lab. Inside were three men, two Stiles didn’t know, and one Stiles recognized as a fellow faculty member. The faculty member in question was a part of the biology department, not the supernatural department, though, so Stiles had had very little contact with him and did not even know his name. This at least explained how Blake had been able to get so much of the plan done in such a short time without the university realizing – help from the inside.

They men were moving between two figures lying on a pair of platforms. Stiles cried out. One of the figures wore a pink sequin dress stained with blood. She was tied down and both hands and feet crucified with wooden stakes. Stiles couldn’t tell if she lay still because of the pain or because she could no longer move at all.

Stiles looked at Blake. “I am beginning to understand who is truly the monster here. What you are doing is farther from natural than vampires or werewolves could ever get.”

“No!” Blake looked angry. “They are the real monsters. They overlook humans, they only care about themselves. But we outnumber them. We are stronger than they are. _I_ am stronger than they are and I will teach these monsters that their monstrous actions will _never_ be overlooked.”

Stiles was starting to think Blake had moved on from zealot territory and into crazy, although he supposed the two weren’t mutually exclusive. He wondered if some supernatural hadn’t wronged her in some way in the past.

The automaton hauled Stiles over to one of the platforms and tied him down.

“Bring in a new test recipient,” Blake ordered. One of the scientists scurried off.

Stiles twisted his head so he could see Laura. She was still lying silent and unmoving on her own platform.

Eventually one of the scientists turned on the machine and a white light ran up a tube attached to Laura’s arm and penetrated her body. She jerked and writhed, pulling involuntary on the stakes impaling her body. She let out a scream of pain.

The scientist pushed a button and the light shifted to a tube attached to a comatose human on the platform next to Laura. The man’s eyes opened. He also jerked and screamed. Ignoring Laura, all the scientists ran over to the man. They checked his pulse and his pupils. The man lay perfectly still.

Then he began to whimper. All of his muscles seemed to lock up, his bones stiffened, and his eyes bulged.

“Perfect!” exclaimed the biologist.

“A much more rapid and efficient result. Commendable progress,” said Blake, smiling widely.

There was a loud knock on the door. Danny came in carrying the body of another man.

Upon seeing Stiles, Danny dropped the body and ran over.

“Stiles, I’m so sorry,” Danny was wringing his hands. “If I had only known what you were, I might have stopped this. I’m sorry.”

“Professor, shouldn’t you test the extent of his abilities first?” Danny asked Blake. “Formulate a hypothesis, take a more scientific approach? If he is so unique, you can’t take unnecessary risks.”

Blake waived off his statements. “This is just a preliminary procedure. According to the vampires, he holds life in a different way than normal humans. He may not need any kind of electroshock treatment for revival at all.”

Danny looked about nervously. “But what if my theory is correct and not yours?”

Blake grinned madly. “You’d better hope that I am right and not you, then.”

The scientists started moving the equipment over towards Stiles.

Suddenly, something large, heavy, and very angry hit the outside door hard enough to splinter it.

“What the hell is that?” asked the biologist.

“It will hold,” Blake stated, but not confidently.

At the second crash, the scientists all turned toward the door in a defensive stance. Danny quickly untied Stiles from the platform.

Stiles remained still and hoped nobody would noticed he was free.

The door caved in on the third crash and in charged a large, black wolf. The fur around his face was matted and clotted with blood and his eyes were red with madness and anger.

It took merely seconds for Derek to knock out all three scientists and start attacking the automaton. He had the automaton’s neck in his teeth, trying to decapitate it. Whatever the skeleton had been made of was evidently too strong for a werewolf’s teeth, though.

Blake grabbed a knife and quicker than Stiles believed possible, she was at Stiles’s side and holding it just under his ribs. She started making her way to the door, forcing Stiles along with her.

Stiles really wished he had a baseball bat at that moment. Derek could make fun of him all he liked, but it was an effective weapon. Instead, he elbowed Blake in the stomach while simultaneously stomping on her foot. Stiles twisted away and Blake, more concerned about her own safety than anything else, fled.

The sound had the bad luck of drawing Derek’s attention. He started toward Stiles, dragging the automaton, who now had a death grip around his throat. Stiles knew that if Derek touched him now, he’d be in danger.

“Rub out the word, Stiles,” a hoarse voice cried out. From atop her platform, a pale and clearly in pain Laura lifted her head. “Rub out the word on his forehead.”

Suddenly understanding, Stiles tried to dodge out of the werewolf’s touch and reach the automaton’s forehead. He missed nearly all of the letters so that JHVH became JHV.

The automaton stiffened and let go enough for Derek to shake him off.

Stiles leapt forward and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck. The change was a little less horrible and once again, Stiles had Derek’s naked form in his arms.

“The automaton tastes like crap,” Derek spat.

Derek then moved his hands over Stiles, checking for injuries. “Are you okay?” Stiles nodded. Derek noticed the cut on his arm, but before he could get angry, Stiles explained. “I did that to myself. You needed a trail to follow.”

Derek grunted. Stiles supposed that was as close to approval as he was likely to get for injuring himself.

Derek pulled Stiles against him, kissing him deeply. Stiles pulled away after a moment.

“We need to help Laura,” Stiles insisted. Derek nodded.

Suddenly, the man next to Laura sat up. Stiles had completely forgotten about him. Before the man could do more than look around stupidly with his fangs out, Stiles touched his hand, turning him human as well. Derek punched him had enough to knock him out.

“Was that really necessary?”

“It easier than making you hold on to both of us,” Derek replied. Stiles saw the sense in it, but still thought it unfair to the man.

They walked over to Laura. “Derek, you’ll have to do this. I’m afraid to touch her like this.”

Derek nodded. “Well, princess,” Derek said to the vampire. “Got yourself in quite a pickle this time, didn’t you?”

“Oh, Dere-bear, you’re one to talk. Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but seeing as how it’s you, shouldn’t you maybe cover up or something?” replied Laura hoarsely. Derek blushed so red, it extended all the way down his neck and to his upper torso. Even if she sounded bad, if Laura was joking, she had to be alright. Stiles was also incredibly fond of the moniker “Dere-bear” and would be using it in the future.

Derek untied Laura and, as gently as possible, slid his hands and feet off the wooden stakes. The wounds should have closed. They remained gaping.

“I need blood. I do not think either of you will do,” Laura said weakly.

Before a suggestion could be made, Derek jerked backward. Two hands were wrapped around his throat. The automaton had crawled across the floor and was trying to fulfill its last order – to kill Derek.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful feedback. I hope you like the conclusion and will stick around for the sequel!

Both Stiles and Derek tried to beat off the automaton with one hand each. Neither were successful. Stiles was about to jump away and leave Derek to try fighting as a werewolf when Laura stumbled over and, using a handkerchief that she procured from down the front of her dress, wiped the rest of the smudged word from the automaton’s forehead.

The automaton let go of Derek and collapsed to the floor.

Its skin began melting away in slow rivulets. Soon, all that was left was a metal frame lying in a puddle of black goo and wax.

Laura crumpled to the floor, having used the last of her strength. Stiles bent over her, careful not to touch. She was somehow still alive.

“Why?” he asked. “Why did that work?”

“You only removed part of the activating word. There was still some power left,” replied Derek.

“Well,” huffed Stiles. “How was I supposed to know?”

“No worries, dear,” said Laura from her prone position on the floor.

They heard a great noise from outside the room. Suddenly a large group of young people burst into the room, carrying with them the bound form of Jennifer Blake. Upon seeing Laura, a number of them shrieked and ran over.

“Laura’s drones,” explained Stiles.

“I’d have never guessed,” Derek replied sardonically.

“Where did they come from?” wondered Stiles.

One of the young men, whom Stiles remembered, realized what was wrong with Laura and pushed up his sleeve, offering his wrist.

“Scotty, dear, do not let me drink for you for too long.”

“Of course.” Scott put his wrist to the vampire’s lips and Laura bit down in relief.

Scott pulled away when he’d given enough. Another drone took his place. After the fourth drone, Laura’s wounds began to close.

“Explain yourselves,” Laura ordered, when she was strong enough.

“We gathered quite a lot of information quickly tonight,” explained Scott. “”We returned early, but found you gone, so we acted on the information. Apparently there was a lot of suspicious activity going on around this building on campus tonight. There was even police tape, but one person’s father was a cop and knew nothing about it.”

“You did well,” Stiles said to the group. He wished his students took this much initiative.

Derek said, “Someone needs to go to BUR and send some agents over. This is a police scene now. And we’ll need someone to call the Commissioner Stilinski. I don’t think he’d like to be out of the loop on this one. Do any of you have a phone?”

When every drone produced one, Derek took one from Scott. “I’m going to call campus police to get them to secure the scene as well as possible now. And get the university’s president down here.”

Derek sighed. “This is going to be a lot of paperwork. And Argent is out of commission tonight.”

“I bet you could get Laura’s drones to help. They’re incredibly efficient.”

This did seem to be true. Although they all looked to be frivolous and uninformed, they managed to get the police and university involved quickly. They let out any captured vampires, although at Derek’s insistence, left the werewolves locked up. Laura smiled at them all fondly.

Blake was carted off to prison by two BUR agents – a vampire and human. Stiles had to speak severely to both Derek and his father about paying her a call once Stiles was no longer around.

“Neither of you are above the law and you know it. Leave it alone. She’s been caught and there’s no way she’s getting away with anything.”

“Just a mild dismemberment?” asked Stiles’s father. “No!” said Stiles, exasperated. Derek commented that John Stilinski might make a good werewolf. Stiles threw his hands up in annoyance.

\--

When Stiles arrived home, he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and never get back up. He had had to be carried off campus by Argent once the sun rose, Laura’s handkerchief covering his face from the press already gathered outside the police tape.

Erica, of course, wanted to know every detail. Stiles tried very hard to ignore her.

Suddenly there was a loud knocking on the door. Stiles groaned. “Erica, I’m not home.”

A deep voice through the door said, “You are home to me.”

Erica opened the door to reveal three men in dark suits. Two wore ear pieces and hand guns. The third wore an American flag pin and the smile of a politician. Erica squeaked. Stiles almost fainted.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. President. I thought you were the press.” Stiles tried to explain.

“No formality, Mr. Stilinski. I understand you have had an interesting night.”

Stiles nodded and made a gesture for the President to sit, finally noticing how badly decorated they kept the place. He made a vow to take Erica on a shopping trip so they could finally make the apartment seem a little more like a home.

“Miss-?“ the President paused, looking at Erica.

“Reyes,” she responded in barely a whisper.

“Miss Reyes, could Mr. Stilinski and I please have a moment?” the President asked.

Erica nodded and fled the room. Argent made to leave as well, but the President asked him to stay.

“Mr. Stilinski, you are not at all what I expected.”

“You knew to expect something?” Stiles responded, startled.

“You are the only preternatural on American soil. We approved your mother’s immigration when she was just a child. We were informed the moment you were born. Well, my predecessor was, in any case.”

Stiles nodded mutely.

“You are aware of the Shadow Council?” he asked.

Stiles nodded again. “The potentate acts as your official vampire consultant and the dewan in the werewolf capacity.”

“Yes, this is true. There is a third post, meant to break the stalemate between the other two. A shah.”

Stiles looked confused. “A ghost?”

The President explained. “Traditionally the third member of the Shadow Council is a preternatural, the shah. Your mother declined the post, I believe.”

“Aside from breaking a stalemate, the shah is the only truly mobile unit of the three councilors. The potentate is confined to a narrow territory and cannot function during the day. The dewan is more mobile, but cannot travel by plane and is incapacitated every full moon. We have relied on the FBI and BUR to make up for the Shadow Council’s weakness, but I would prefer a shah whose attentions are on the country’s concerns.”

“So it would require travel?” Stiles asked.

“Derek will not like that,” muttered Argent from the wall he was leaning against.

“Possibly. The potentate’s area is New York and the dewan lives here as well, so you would not need to travel for meetings. There may be field work, though. I and my advisors have kept up with your work both during your masters and your doctoral work now. We will try to limit your travel as much as possible while you finish your doctorate, but I would ask you to finish as quickly as possible.”

Stiles nodded. “I guess, I accept.”

“Very good. Alpha Hale indicated you would, but I wasn’t sure, after your mother.”

“Derek what?”

“He recommended you a few years ago, when you first met. I was advised to wait and see if you completed your masters first and what you did from there. Continuing on to a doctorate assured me you’ll have the appropriate background, but your personal investigation over the past few weeks into this case made me confident that you can handle all that the job entails.”

Stiles actually felt a little proud. Who could call him meddling now? The President of the United States just complimented him on it!

Argent laughed. “I think Hale wants to throw him at the dewan and see what happens.”

The President smiled. “They have never gotten along. It will be interesting, though.”

\--

**Epilogue**

A year and a half later, Stiles was standing under trees on campus in the late afternoon sun with Derek, his father, Erica, Boyd (who Erica had not so secretly been dating for six months until Stiles finally told her everyone already knew about it), and Erica’s parents. Both he and Erica had just graduated – he with his PhD and Erica with her Masters, both in Supernatural Studies. Stiles’s father insisted on pictures of everyone – in groups, in pairs, individually – and everyone was very sick of the click of the camera. John Stilinski ignored them. It was not every day that one gained a doctor in the family, after all. And Erica, despite having two parents already, was basically a second daughter to him. This was a big day.

Erica would be joining the Manhattan BUR office (Derek wasn’t sure the office would survive) and Stiles had finally been promoted to full-time professor. His salary was, thankfully, being raised as well.

There was to be a graduation party later that night a Laura’s house. Stiles had unfortunately no choice but to introduce Laura and Erica. He was right. It had been a horrible idea.

Between the entirety of Derek’s pack and clavigers, Laura’s drones, _and_ all of Erica and Stiles’s accumulated friends and acquaintances, the party was going to be quite packed. Stiles and Erica arrived early, as did Stiles’s father and Derek. Scott and the rest of the drones immediately set them to various tasks about the place to prepare for the party. Stiles waived them off and went to Laura’s bedroom.

He woke her from her deadlike daytime sleep with a touch.

“It’s almost sunset,” he said with a smile. “Come with me.”

Clad in only a thin blue nightgown, he took the vampire firmly by the hand and led her up through the house and to the rooftop.

They stood together and Laura rested her cheek on his shoulder, watching the sun set over the city. Laura refrained from pointing out that he would be late for his own party and Stiles refrained from pointing out that she was crying.

Once all glimmer of the sun was gone, Laura left to go downstairs, noticing a dark figure standing in the background of the rooftop.

As she passed, she whispered, “Don’t screw this up, little bro.”

Derek emerged from the shadows and took Laura’s place next to Stiles, looking out over the city. He wrapped an arm around Stiles’s waist and Stiles leaned into him. They remained like that for a few moments, watching the traffic and lights below.

“Happy graduation, Dr. Stilinski,” murmured Derek. Stiles looked up at him and smiled.

Turning slightly, Derek positioned Stiles so that they were facing each other. “Stiles, I want to ask you something.”

Derek looked nervous. Derek _never_ looked nervous. Stiles was intrigued. “I don’t—I don’t,” Derek was stuttering now. “I didn’t buy a ring for this. You don’t really seem like the engagement ring type. I don’t know how to do this. I asked Chris if I should get down on one knee, but he rolled his eyes at me…” Derek trailed off.

Stiles tried not to laugh. He wasn’t sure Derek had ever babbled, but there was no other word for what he was doing now.  “Derek, are you trying to ask me to marry you?”

Derek nodded mutely. Stiles would never admit it, but he got a kind of sick pleasure in seeing Derek at a loss for words. It so rarely happened. Granted, the same could be said for Stiles.

Stiles’s smile grew wider. “Duh. Was there even a question? Of course I will!”

Stiles grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward into a very deep kiss.

A wolf-whistle emanated from the rooftop door. They broke their kiss and turned only to find Erica, Laura (who had managed to change into party attire astonishingly fast), Boyd, and Stiles’s father crowded around the door.

“Don’t you have a party to be at?” grumbled Derek.

“Yes! And you’re hogging one of the guests of honor!” yelled Laura. “Stiles, honey, are you sure you want to marry a possessive werewolf like that?” She wrinkled her nose in fake disgust.

Stiles laughed and, dragging Derek along, joined the party downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued in [Quiescent](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3543551).
> 
> For any Soulless fans, I did change the title of the position to "shah" for mostly irrelevant reasons that only make sense to me. Hopefully it doesn't bother anyone too much.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me at my tumblr dedicated solely to original works (which at the moment consists entirely of Teen Wolf fic and Doctor Who fanvids) [here](http://scs12.tumblr.com/) or my multi-fandom/general tumblr [here](http://theycallmethejackal.tumblr.com/).


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